Sons of Egypt
by NormalAddict
Summary: Having abandoned all hope for Gods that didn't save him from his fathers wretched hands or separation from his brother, Marik is spiteful and apathic. Instead of serving at the Kingdom as he should,Marik is sold to Bakura, who cares next to nothing.YB/YM
1. Begotten

** Sons of Egypt.**

** Chapter One: Begotten.**

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It was beautiful outside. The warm rays of the sun reigned down upon the long sands of the country of Egypt, blessing them with a wonderful day after several collisions with the Nile. People were walking about town, laugh cheerfully together and thanking the Gods up above for such a given.

However. Where he was, there was no light, no warmth and most definitely no joy.

Marik had always known as he sat now against the wall, his brother huddled against him. He had always known that throughout his entire life everything they both had been through was a preparation for something bigger. To the unseeing eye the sight would have been endearing, beautiful perhaps. Two teenagers, brothers, with blonde hair and striking lavender eyes sat down on the floor, one heavily clung to the other.

Only Marik knew that such things were only superficial.

He had been raised with his brother in a tomb where he could not see and could not hear a thing of the outside world. There was no love shared here for his brother was adopted and treated lower than dirt and his sister had to continue her preaching and it was always as if she was scared to get close. It were these signs that told Mariku something was very off.

As the oldest he had gone through the ritual and perhaps that was the time when his mind finally broke and left room for insanity to take its place. No, not insanity, cynicism that overtook him. The memories would never fade away, the hot knife pressed into the very flesh of his body, cutting him open as it marred his skin forever. When all was done and said Malik had kept questioning about the room, what had happened but to protect Malik's mind from cracking Mariku had never spoken a word.

It was ironic. These markings were beautiful, wonderfully illustrated and yet it was their beauty that told a terrible secret. And as the oldest he was supposed to bear it.

Life down the tomb was harsh, their father was a cruel man who cared nothing for his children and just raised them to be obedient, for if one defied the gods, death would take your place. When Mariku had been younger he had been listening with a frown, when that horrible secret was passed onto him, he no longer listened to the teachings at all. How were the Gods supposed to damn them when they had offered him little to no help when he screamed. They were not there to rip the knife out of his father's cold hands and plunge it into his equally cold heart.

No. That was all Mariku's job.

If he had to suffer for them, he would abhor them. Rewards in death meant nothing when there was no afterlife to begin with.

And right about now he was not even making an effort at calming his younger brother down as they were waiting for their father to return. It was not a secret that his father loathed Mariku, hence why Malik had been desperate to protect him for the coming lash of the whip and had been taken down instead. A regular person would call this noble, Mariku just deemed it to be stupid. Why take a blow for him, he'd enough scars to go around.

"Marik.." a soft whimper caught his attention.

Blank violent eyes turned to trembling softer ones.

"I-I'm scared."

"Don't be."

It was as much comfort as he could give, even in the light of things, Malik could tell that it was an obvious lie. Mariku didn't believe everything would be okay and his whole body radiated it.

"But what if they.." Malik swallowed, averting his gaze from the eyes that seemed to scrutinize him with their cold precision. Mariku had no emotion, he could not understand Malik's fear. All that Mariku would be able to understand was the very hatred that dared to consume him. "What if they take you away from me?"

"Then they take me away." There was no waver in his voice, no betrayal of his emotion. Mariku had long known that he and Malik were to get separated. They were born to be given away, live in the shadows to be so much more appreciative of the light. Though it was only Malik who had embraced it, Mariku had chosen to reside in the lingering shadows of the tomb.

"Don't you CARE?"

A somewhat confused gaze was settled upon the older blonde. "What do you mean?"

"Care Marik, _care_!" Malik waved his arms around for good emphasis, his face resorting to one of anger instead of fear. "You don't care if you never see me again do you!"

For a moment there was silence when Mariku contemplated this fact. He didn't fear what was about to get them, he had heard his sister praying for them many times before. When they were born it was a miracle to not have one but two babies with golden hair and lavender eyes, even at the cost of their mother. It was a 'gift' of the gods and because Mariku was the oldest, he was to receive the scriptures on his back. Mariku was deemed a servant of the gods and the markings on his back were proof of his 'heritage'.

He was to be treated with some sorts of respect, live a life at some Pharaoh and be separated from his brother. He had known this and loathed it. Like a bird trapped in a cage he would be observed and treated carefully. He would go from a place of darkness to a cage and his wish of ever seeing the sunrise would still not come true. And he would be separated from Malik.

"I've come to accept it."

SLAP.

Mariku didn't even bother to reposition himself as a furious red hand mark was on his left cheek, turning his face to the right.

"How can you say such a thing!" from the tensing muscles he felt next to him and the raise of his voice, Mariku knew that he was crying.

Yet he made no effort to look back at it. The image hurt.

"Because it's the truth."

WHACK.

This time it was his head that had to suffer a blow and Mariku growled low in his throat. Since when had Malik taken it upon himself to act so aggressive? Was he really that upset about him leaving? Just when he was about to turn his face and tell him the truth, that he had been nearly grieving when he had found out, he was tugged by his hair and forced to look straight ahead and not to the side.

Malik had grown silent. Mariku soon found out why.

The beady eyes of his father looked back into his, snarling insults at him that Marik had come to ignore. "Worthless shit! They will be here soon and you better _behave_!" The wild-haired blonde did not flinch but knew better than to talk back now. He saw Malik flinch beside him as the grip on his hair grew tighter. "Do you under_stand_?"

"Yes." Was all that left his mouth before a company arrived and his father quickly let go of his hair.

Mariku only stared on blankly as Malik blindly searched his hand and squeezed it tightly. Whether this was out of an apology or just reassurance, Marik wasn't certain of it. But he knew that he cared not for both.

Mariku did not expect much but when he looked up and settled his gaze on the man his father talked animatedly to, he couldn't help but be startled. White tresses adorned his head but not neatly no, it looked like it hadn't been combed in ages with the unruly state it was in. Mariku swallowed a chuckle at the two ridiculous horns on top of it. Was this the devil they were trying to sell him to? Perhaps he would have a lot more fun then.

He was dressed in fine robes, a tunic of fine linen with a kilt finishing it. Another thing that gave way to what Mariku assumed to be his wealth, was the jewellery that adorned his wrists and neck. Somehow, he didn't know exactly why, Mariku knew that it was only now that he had them on. To intimidate his father and the rest of them. He shouldn't have bothered in the first place, even a bit of a normal outfit would've been enough to impress tomb keepers never seeing the light.

"Master Bakura." Ah so Bakura was his name hm? Might be good to remember to leer at him. The suck-up voice of his father was already enough to make his skin crawl at the sight of him, all fascination gone.

"Is that him?" the man gazed upon his younger brother, who was now nearly squeezing the life out of his hand but Mariku remained impassive. "No." his father answered him curtly, "It's the other." Other? It seemed as if they were talking more about a slave trade than a – All of a sudden Mariku's eyes grew wide. That was it wasn't it? His father wouldn't talk so disrespectfully of him when they were dealing with a King, this was just a hoodlum!

"Let me see the back."

'_Shit shit shit SHIT.' _Realization gave way to inner panic and he didn't even notice the question until he was forced onto his knees, facing the wall that he realized just what the man was looking at and what part of him he was touching. "Get OFF me!" The skin was sensitive, he never liked anyone touching this accursed proof of his destiny. The blonde turned around and attempted to slap the white-haired man before that same hand was grabbed and tugged forward.

"Defiance hm?" the man leered, "Or are you just arrogant enough to think I am not allowed to touch you?"

"No you're not allowed to touch me." He hissed back at him as he tried to wrench his arm free from him but failed miserably in the iron grip. This wasn't arrogance from his part, just a mere form of self-defence.

Without even a word the grip only proceeded to tighten but Mariku didn't flinch, the only sound heard was Malik's soft whimpering. He had never been good at seeing his brother suffer, tending to scream for him. He was a fool indeed.

"I'll take him." Mariku didn't like the grin on his face one bit. It spoke of danger and many hidden promises that wouldn't prove to be in the least bit beneficial for him. The older blonde had it all figured out pretty clearly. His father was going to sell him.

"Pay me in full."

And there it was. Even as the Egyptian had already figured out what his fate would look like, it still sent a tremor down his spine at hearing the words spoken out loud. It was one thing to be sent to a Pharaoh's place and live a life of solitude and serve gods you didn't believe in, but slave trade was just a new low. Mariku didn't quite know how to respond as his eyes regarded the gold being transferred to the greedy hands of his father. It would be impossible to curse at him, damn him, because it would all mean nothing.

His whole life Mariku hadn't done what the man wanted. He hadn't cooperated with his 'carvings', had abominated the gods and insulted them and he wasn't ever pleased with his future. That had stung his father pretty badly.

Beady eyes settled upon a head that was his son but there was no affection in them. Instead a cold gaze was directed at Marik's lavender eyes, a smirk painted on his lips. The brat would finally get what was coming to him. No one ever appreciated ungratefulness, that snooty attitude Mariku had all but displayed. Never was he grateful for leaving the tomb where he was left to rot in hell for. The smirk turned into more of a malicious sneer as he considered his son's fate.

The man in front of him was not an ordinary one after all. He was a thief and a murderer, sought over the country and feared by many.

Bakura.

No one knew if this was his last or first name and they need not to know either. That one name was enough to beat fear into the helpless citizens spread all over Egypt.

It was no secret that the man hated the gods.

The lips of the man curled in a smile.

Mariku might have just met his soulmate. If only the man didn't see him as a worshipper of the gods.

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**NormalAddict **First time posting something up of my YGO fanfiction. If you have any notes, comments, critiques or any of the kind please feel free to share. Questions about the plot might not be fully answered as I don't want to spoil it. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Nothing

**Author's Note: **I want to thank you all for such kind reviews! I was actually pleasantly surprised when I found out people liked the story enough to favorite it or put it on alert.  
I really hope you enjoy the second chapter as well! Just a head's up, everything in italics means something that's happened before or a flashback.

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**Chapter two: Nothing.**

He was nothing. He'd been nothing at the tomb, where he had been tossed around and played around with as everyone pleased. He had been groomed into becoming what he had to be, fighting every step of the way but his own choices had been meaningless. Nothing. And now he was less than nothing in this man's grasp.

In the two hours he'd been forced to spend in his company, he had been made to walk while the rest of them, a pack of bandits, rode the horses. However, that wasn't the worst of it. Like a slave he was wrist-bound to the horse which galloped every once in a while, forcing him down on his knees, dragged through the sand until he nearly choked on it and was released finally under the load roar of laughter. This was the third time he had been force-fed sand, and though Mariku really didn't give a fuck about him or his petty little methods, _this_ was starting to get on his nerves. So after dragging himself up, spitting at the bandits, he only howled at him. "You're pathetic."

He wouldn't ever admit he missed Malik, wouldn't admit it for the world that a sense of dread had settled into his stomach but at least he could say that he wasn't scared of this _Bakura_. The man was worthless of his fear and attention. It would be worthless to even try. Mariku had been told countless of times that he was incapable of feeling, and right now the grin on his face seemed to agree with that.

He wasn't stupid enough to be fearless. But he didn't care enough to fear.

The albino halted in his steps and looked back at him. His eyes seemed to change, from a strange mahogany to a deep auburn, and his lips curled back into a sneer. On one hand he hadn't expected so much defiance from a caveman, but on the other… It was just what he should've expected from a pampered little godsend like the blonde. With that he hopped off his horse but his newly acquired _slave_, his lips only momentarily twitched into a grin, didn't even flinch.

"As a _slave_ you really have no right to say such things to me." The boy was aggravating him more than he'd originally thought. He couldn't be anything _but_ angry.

"Did I hurt _someone's_ feelings?" Marik shot back, that grin never leaving his hollow face with the violent lavender eyes. Bakura should've realized something then.

But he didn't.

Instead he just wanted that infuriating grin gone from his face.

_Thunk._

The blow was hard, harder than the blonde had anticipated, and it had taken him by surprise as he found himself in the sand a second later with a painfully throbbing cheek. That was going to become a nasty bruise. But Mariku refused to give up. He continued grinning like mad as he wiped the blood off his cheek where Bakura's ring had cut him.

"Seems like I have."

He didn't cringe, didn't cry. Didn't even put up much of a fight as he just stood up again and laughed. A chilling laugh that a boy of his age shouldn't be able to make. It was mad as it rang through the desert, chilling Bakura's anger for a moment. It foretold something that he couldn't grasp, every time he saw a glimpse, it slipped through the very cracks of his fingers.

"_Stop laughing!" his father screamed at him while Malik sobbed in a corner, comforted by Isis who's watchful eyes never left Mariku's distorted face. His father struck again, leaving a red welt on Marik's side and though the boy hissed in retaliation, he had not ceased his laughter. _

"_Mariku…" The threat was not heeded or just not heard. One wasn't ever sure with the blonde. He didn't speak, never spoke a word during the beating he received that seemed to last longer the more his mouth gave way to soft chuckles. Skin tore under the harsh material of the whip, bones crunched when his legs couldn't support his weight anymore and blood adorned the walls he collapsed against. But still Mariku would not cease to laugh._

_It was the only thing he had left. _

Bakura couldn't stand it anymore. The melodious sound went on and on like a broken record with no interruption in its wake. Striding forward, he grabbed the boy by the front of his tunic and brought his face close, close enough for Mariku to take note of him and stop laughing.

"This defiance of yours…" the grip grew tighter, fabric getting twisted and cutting into flesh. "I will break it along with the rest of you."

Marik's expression changed, lips pulled back into a growl, a look ready to kill. "Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

Bakura roughly pushed the blonde away from him and kicked the fallen body where it lay. "You'll find that out very soon." The grin was malicious. The intent probably even worse. "Because you'll be screaming the name later."

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It was dark. There was no light to be found beneath the rocks that adorned the cooled down sand, flaps of tents lightly moving in the wind and here it was Mariku laid, beneath the stars that were the only comfort he could find himself in. Even idiots knew it would get cold during the nights, that once the sun had left the dead surface of the desert, cold like winter would settle in. He would run if he could, would have better liked death than this accursed fate because Ra knew you'd die in the desert at night. Unfortunately Bakura had anticipated that and bound him to a wooden pole right next to his tent.

Chains rattled with every movement.

Why was he here? What was his stupid purpose now?

For a moment Marik only laughed. "What do the 'gods' want of me now?" It was no secret that he didn't believe at all. From the moment he'd been told to get his back carved open so people could see his precious destiny he had been refusing. His capture had been fierce. The blonde had been running around the tomb for two days until finally, his empty stomach and drained energy did not quite have the strength to run on anymore.

"Hmpf." Best not to think about it.

It was kind of ironic to know that, had it not been for his father's hatred, he would now be in a palace, serving another creature he didn't believe in like the gods.

Mariku's lips curled into a smirk.

The pharaoh.

Had it not been for Bakura, or everything else his accursed 'destiny' threw at him, then he would be serving in a palace now, treated "special" because he had the gift to talk to the gods. Mariku wanted to laugh again. If the Gods had ever listened to him then they wouldn't have made him a twin, wouldn't have cursed him with these markings, wouldn't make him live with a pharaoh he hated or a man who's hatred was returned in full.

A rush of wind made him shiver and a moment later a man stood beside him.

"Hello there pretty." His voice was rough, hardened through years of murder and thievery. Beady eyes seemed to glisten in the weak light as they roamed over Mariku's body. A body that had been stripped away from clothing previously this night.

"_Lay there like the dog you are." The pale Egyptian had spit in his face as he threw the garments into his own tent, leaving Mariku bare on the sand. If the man thought this had brought shame on him, he was wrong. The blonde only stretched his body to the fullest and shot him a lecherous grin. "Like what you see?" It had not been unnoticed that Bakura's eyes had lingered on the marred flesh, if only for a moment. _

_A hit to the face was all the response he got before the Lord of thieves had disappeared into his tent, muttering ancient curses that Mariku could only understand partly. But he had only chuckled. _

_Victory._

The stench of alcohol was not missed by him and he scrunched up his nose as he regarded him with a look of disgust. He was wary, but not yet alarmed. The man crouched down next to him, only to have Mariku scoot away from him. He was not scared, not in the least, but the smell was just that unbearable.

"What's the matter blondie?" A grin full of yellow teeth met him. "Don't like what you see?"

A hand made its way to Mariku's thigh. His response was immediate.

He might have been bound with his feet but his hands were still free and his right shot out to grab the appendage that touched him, twisted the wrist and snapped it with his left hand. A sickening crack was heard and a scream followed. There wasn't much time for a triumphant laugh though as the blonde was quickly seized by the hair and he growled as he stood face to face with him. A punch was quickly delivered, bruising his face further but a kick was delivered soon as a response.

The man gained the position on top of him and the blonde hissed, rolling over the ground, landing punches wherever he could and eventually the unscathed hand was placed on his inner thigh, making him snap up and glare. "Don't fucking dare if you want to keep that hand.." A knife snapped into place near his right eye. "You'll lose that pretty eye of yers if you keep yappin'."

A moment later that grin started to fade and then suddenly the body was next to him, a knife pressed into his back, another figure hovering above it. "Don't steal what's mine." The last parting words the thief heard before he died, his blood mingling with the dark sand beneath him.

The blonde looked up, doing nothing but stare at the auburn eyes that looked back at him.

"Get the fuck away." It was Marik that pushed the body away from him and snarled at the albino. "I'm trying to sleep here." He hadn't been scared. More disgusted with the man than he'd ever been for defending him as property. He'd rather be dead.

With a disbelieving snort the man regarded him but walked away without further protest. "Die for all I care."

It was too late for this. In the morning there would be plenty of time to punish the blonde for his disobedience, because if there was one thing that everyone knew around him ; Bakura did not go back on his word.

He would break the boy. At all cost.

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**N/A; **I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading chapter 2 as well. The plot will hopefully thicken somewhat after this but I hope I have explained a bit more about Marik's position. Though it will all come in time. In case of any questions. This is Yami Bakura, the pale-haired bastard we all came to love. Touzouko might come in later.

Does me saying "please review" really make you want to do it more? Regardless, I would love to hear what you think.


	3. Match

**Chapter Three: Match.**

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" _N-No!" Dragged away, kicking, screaming. All was but a blurry haze as it went by so extremely fast. Terror gripped at him from all sides, mangling his body and making him feel sick. " Stop it!" His screams hardly mattered now, no matter how many times they were set free or their pitch. He was scared, so scared and terribly alone. Limbs were dragged over the cold jagged stones, not caring for the __scrapes that the loose sand caused on the uncovered skin. Screams and small grunts of pain were ignored. "Let go! Please let go!" It was terrible to experience. He hadn't been through like this because the other blonde had always been _there_, there to be the rock he could lean on, console him in his own way. He couldn't go, he couldn't GO!_

'_Don't go!' His mind seemed to hysterically scream. Eyes desperately locked with that blank violet and then to the unforgiving red. "Take me as well!" He was crying. Big droplets of tears clung to his lashes before dropping down to his reddened cheeks. The boy was held back, both of them were, both by merciless cold people._

_One was vengeful, the other merely laughing. Violet clashed yet again, sending the boy a warning glance. It seemed to warn him of things that his mind wasn't even thinking about. Was it innocence that withheld him or the mere naivity that his screaming would somehow help. Screaming never helped a thing. He should've realized when Mariku's screams didn't stop his father from carving into his back. That screaming didn't bring Odion back to life. But it was the only thing he had left. _

_Again he lunged forward, breaking free from his father's harsh hands and dropping down to his knees in front of the man who held what was everything to him. The white-haired male simply observed him, this quivering excuse for a human. A smirk seemed to curl around his lips and the free had that currently wasn't occupied reached into his back pocket, retrieving something. And in a flash it was done. Red dotted the floor and an agonizing scream filled the room, echoing through the hollow halls. The boy rose a hand to the gash on his cheek, tears filling the surface of his eyes. _

_The blade was twisted carelessly in the man's hand and the boy he held in his grip didn't move a muscle. What was he supposed to do? Malik couldn't run now like he would've told him previously. There was no where to run to here. _

" _If you value your life.." The man leered, "I wouldn't try that again. Say your prayers and leave."_

"_Malik." The other blonde spoke, earning a glare from both his father and his captor, "He's right."_

_All it took was a single look. Mariku looking at Malik, Malik looking at Bakura. Perhaps his father took a sideward glance to Mariku. It was incredulous. The smaller blonde had to think, had to get his brain to work but the sight of blood made him nauseous and his cheek stung horribly. Was it going to scar? He didn't want to.. He didn't want anything.. He huddled closer to the corner of the room, fear spreading through every single vibe of his body. He hated himself. _

_He didn't want to die._

"…" _He didn't want to fucking die! He was scared of death. He wasn't like Mariku, couldn't shake of the thought of death and the fear of the gods who would be judging him. He wanted to live, breathe, live his life the proper way. He was scared of death, especially such a horrible one as the man proposed. Along with the fear came a deep feeling of loathing._

"_Go along with what the bastard says." And Mariku knew his weakness. Only he could look at him in such a particular way. Mariku was well aware of Malik's small fears and pains and used it against him. It was cruel and it was horrible. "How can you!" Again the blade was pressed against the tip of his throat and this time, Bakura wasn't smiling anymore. The amusement had worn off. _

"_Shut that pretty face of yours before I cut it up." He snarled. He wasn't aware of what had been going on between the two brothers by the look on his face, but it had unsettled him. Malik quivered and tried to crawl away from the knife as it pressed into his skin. Why was he such a coward? Why couldn't he stand up for his brother? Tears welled up in his eyes but as soon as the white-haired demon took note of this he was struck on the same cheek that had cut him. " Pathetic." _

_The word stung as bad as the hit had. _

_Because it was the truth. _

"_MARIKU!"_

With a shock Malik woke up suddenly, his alarming cry haven woken quite a few other people who, after giving him a look of disdain, went to sleep again. He was all alone again. There was no Mariku to call him a child for having a nightmare. Though Malik knew that this wasn't a nightmare. He was in a bed, comforted by the only thought that he was at least in a warm and safe place, unlike his brother. The thought about him pained him so much though it had been mere days since he was forced to abandon him.

The palace was nice enough, his masters weren't so much. Mariku had been the prodigy, he was supposed to be here for Mariku to support him. As twins with their hair –and skincolour they were deemed the gods' messengers. Mariku had been born first and had to bear the scars. As his brother he was supposed to help him with his duties. Without Mariku he was nothing. Malik grit his teeth. He didn't want to blame his brother because never had this been his fault or choice. Though he had loathed the idea of having to serve the Pharaoh, Malik knew that serving a life as a slave with a thief was probably a lot worse.

The blonde shuddered. It had been days since Mariku's capture and Malik's deportation to the Pharaoh's palace. They had been shushed with the excuse that his brother died and no one would ever believe him. It was ironic that when he got here he had _longed_ for death. For a person who was scared of death and had let go of the only thing that truly mattered to him to stay alive, it was bad that he wanted to die now. He should've just complied.

'Please Mariku. Be alive.'

* * *

Being woken up was like a swift kick to the face. There was this terrible ache in the back of his head, he was heaving and fighting for air as his dry throat was cracking with every cough and when he finally opened his eyes he instantly wanted to close them again.

Mariku _craved_ water. It had been two days and not once had he tasted the tiniest drop of liquid. He'd been fine with anything but he was sure as hell not willing to beg for it. Now that his sore throat was cracking with every syllable the blonde truly understood the meaning of Bakura's words. The past days they had decided to stay put in the desert as to obey Bakura's every whim. The Thief had apparently either not learnt from his previous mistake or chose to not care at all and left Mariku outside of his tent to die.

The nights were terrible when wind spread over the cooled sands and made him shiver in the small piece of cloth Bakura made him wear. It made him long for the cavern where he had grown up in that, though cold and heartless, had not felt quite as solemn as he felt here, under the skies, shivering his fucking skin off. However, the days were worst of all. The temperature was nearly unbearable, crept over his body like a coiled snake and strangled him until he could barely breathe.

The thief made sure to 'check up' on him every once in a while, water in hand and the drops on those sadistically grinning lips but no matter how parched his own lips were or how his throat thirsted for it, the blonde only glared holes into his body. He wasn't stupid enough to speak when his voice wouldn't permit it but his whole body radiated more hatred than his words ever could. Every time Bakura left with a snarl on his face and the silent approval to do with him whatever they pleased, so long as they remembered just _who_ he belonged to.

Ironically enough the beatings were easier to deal with.

The men blamed him for the death of one of their fellow comrades because they were too cowardly to stand up against Bakura. They cursed him and mocked him, tore at his hair and spit at his face but each time there were a few spots they didn't dare to touch. His private parts, hell everyone _knew_ what happened the last time someone tried, and his back. No matter how many times they mocked his 'blessed' fate, the proof of this wasn't once touched. Mariku wondered why. Was it because they, even as thieves and murderers, still felt the slightest fear for something as irrational as the 'gods'? Or perhaps it was something only Bakura was 'worth' touching. The latter made him snort, like the bastard would get away with treating him like property.

The resolve came later on the second day. Everyone had anticipated the big bang but neither bandits nor Bakura could have ever predicted the outcome. During yet another one of their petty jests Mariku had definitely had enough. The blonde was best to be compared with a caged beast. The longer you kept him chained, the more murderous he became. Back in the tomb this was one of the reasons his father couldn't stand him. He had been completely intolerable, couldn't stand being locked up. For days it had shimmered under the surface, the sheer anger that was directed towards all of the, growing venomous like the very snakes and scorpions he had to avoid every night.

And then. He burst.

Quickly it came. The chains around his wrists were thrown quickly around the neck of an idiot who had dared to come too close, stupid enough to believe that he wasn't able to do anything. All of them underestimated the power of will, had underestimated _him_ for how he had lived. The iron swung around his neck, wrung a few times while it cracked the bones beneath the skin and effectively blocked the airstream. A few screamed in alarm but none dared to make the same mistake as the fallen one, not daring to approach the deranged blonde until it was too late.

Veins started to pop and struggles seemed to cease before a few moments later he cast the body aside with a chilling laugh. "Idiots!" he cackled, standing up at his full height and no one daring to move into his direction, "The fuck did you _think_?"

He was mocking them, standing up bound and all, eyes flashing with mirth and something much more dangerous. Or perhaps that alarming element lay in the fact that it wasn´t temporary gratification in Mariku´s eyes, but the true honest enjoyment over what he´d done. Those were not the eyes of a victim, satisfied but shaky about his temporary victor, these were the eyes of a murderer, getting satisfaction out of seeing the life waste away.

The blonde refused to fill the role of prey. He was the hunter in this game. In Mariku's eyes there was nothing found to break. He was too scattered to pick up the pieces and far too irreparable to even begin to mend.

* * *

Roughly he was shoved down on his knees in front of the white-haired male who was practically seething with anger. "You KILLED him?" If it weren't for the circumstances, Bakura might've been amazed, impressed even. But this was Mariku, petty little Mariku that he only knew the name of because he bought him. He wasn't special. He wasn't fucking special! They were here in his made-up hut, Mariku shackled and bound at his feet.

He hated him. Ra how he hated him.

Within a few steps he was in front of the teen. Nothing seemed to phase the blonde, his presence couldn't, his treatment couldn't. But Bakura wasn't at a loss for what to do, far be it from it. He ensnared a hand in the blonde's hair, jerked his head up and brought it close to his face. "I'll teach you." It wasn't clear whether he was sneering or smirking. "To fuck around with me."

Hatred ran deep. When he threw the boy down, on his stomach, he was greeted with those fated tattoos. They were both beautiful and disgusting, the latter his own preference of the two. Squatting down to his knees he trapped the blonde, pressing onto him, he wasn't going to get lucky a second time. His energy level was basically all down. "Such pretty scars.." The albino purred and Mariku immediately knew, something was very off. One did not change demeanour so fast unless there was a reason behind it.

"Get the fuck off me."

No fear in his voice. Just a threat.

"I don't think I will."

A finger ran up from his spine, tracing over the symbols edged deeply into his skin, feeling the bumps and rubbles that ran over the surface. Not once did he wonder how they were made because the way Mariku hissed under him was enough gratification. He didn't like it thus Bakura would continue. "Don't like me touching you _holy_ symbols majesty?" A pun on his name. How fucking original.

"I'm not repeating myself." A low growl. He couldn't admit how awful it felt when those fingers ghosted over his skin.

"I can read them perfectly right now." Bakura gasped as if amazed. "Something about serving to gods to eternity, ever loyal servant… Mortals aren't allowed to touch you isn't that so.." A vague grin curled around the man's lips. "Will I go to hell for this little Mariku?"

He pressed his nail into a thicker part of the tattoo and the blonde hissed, curled his back on instinct. "My aren't you responsive, sure those precious gods aren't going to tut you for that?" Bakura hated the gods. They had taken everything away from him. He had but only one way to get back at them, make them pay for their deities. Stopping for a moment Bakura took a good look at Mariku and decided that, even if he would've done so before, it was a good thing. The fact that he had taken in a murderous teenager only added to his revenge. It made it feel so much greater.

Punish the one they're communicating with.

"What if I go further?" that same finger carelessly hooked beneath the waistband of Mariku's cloth before Bakura flipped him over, shoving him on his back and pressing him against the wall. The area was dark, outside the stars already shone bright. Mariku's expression was unreadable, a grim shadow cast over his face. "Not so tough now huh?" The harsher edge started to come back. "Where are your loyal gods now hm? You're a slave little Mariku. Can't you realize that?"

Realizing, perhaps. Accepting, never.

"You seem awfully upset about some _gods_ Bakura."

He was instantly struck in the face. "Shut the fuck up." But he returned the glare, eyes regaining their radiant murderous look. "Did I strike a nerve?" His smirk was sardonic, even more irritating than his fucking words.

"Heh." Bakura refused to back down and crept closer to him, removing the waistcloth with one hand, throwing it somewhere in the corner. "I'll strike plenty of yours soon." He couldn't watch his face. Up close those eyes glared at him, the lavender changing to a deep velvety purple that had basically no emotions. A starless sky that seemed to promise him no good. For some reason it unnerved him, it wasn't human. It just wasn't normal.

"Get on your knees."

The blonde did nothing. Bakura grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him on his knees, shoving his face over the ground, scraping the boy's face before getting behind him. "Hmmm." This time it wasn't a hand that gently explored his body but a rough pair of fangs that pierced the boy's shoulder until he tasted the familiar metallic he had dearly missed. Unfortunately the screams he was accustomed to were but a few grunts, a curse and a kick against the shin.

Bakura growled and ripped the skin a bit more, earning no more than another low growl. He was aware that the teen would be a hell of a lot more dangerous had he been properly fed instead of nearly starved to death. "I wonder if you are still a virgin.." Bakura wasn't stupid. He knew the rituals. Unless the blonde had been screwing his brother there was no way that he could be anything else. Just another thing he could strip away from him, make him less of a deity, more of a humiliation and a laughing stock.

"Or you're that much of a slut for your brother."

"SHUT UP!"

"How cute.. You actually were?"

Checking it was easy enough. And the proof was delivered fairly easily.

A short gasp. Come on had he really been that startled? Definitely tight. Of course that didn't prove anything. "Well you haven't taken it up the arse at least." He laughed. God how he laughed. He knew how far humiliation went, feeling him up was worse than doing it. Though there would be doing… Very soon. He could barely wait to break him.

"Get the FUCK out!" Insanity slipped through his voice but it went unnoticed as Bakura continued his movement, forcing himself in deeper. His grin was only short-lived because that grin disappeared when Mariku managed to turn himself around and punch him in the face, effectively hitting him square on the jaw and making Bakura tumble sideways. Everything started to become a blur at that point. The room was hazy, things were turning and twirling around. The impact of Mariku's punch hadn't been that great but the lord of thieves was greatly confused as to how this had happened, how he had landed a few feet away, how he could've let himself get taken by surprise?

When he noticed that the blonde slave had gotten up from the floor and disappeared through the flaps of his tent was that he regained his senses."RADAMMIT!" Seething anger. "GET BACK HERE!" The look on his face was murderous but the blonde didn't cease to run, he ran outside of the tents, ran all the way into the desert.

'_I prefer to die there than at his hands.'_ He thought simply. Mariku had no fear of death. Never had be believed in gods and if you died than that was it. The thief could do with his body whatever he wished, if he could ever find it again between the unruly sands of the desert. He didn't prefer death over life, he just didn't care enough. If there was one thing he was sure of though, was to not suffer humiliation at his hands, not give into whatever the fuck he wanted. With that determination the Egyptian ran with the last of his energy, spurred on by the adrenaline of getting away from him.

"You'll DIE!" the words behind him didn't scare him. Hell. Malik should be thankful that the scars were on _his_ back, his brother would've already reduced to a sobbing crying mess after the first hour of being abducted. Mariku had pride, even if he would get caught, which was bound to happen, he planned to fight every step of the way.

"Death means nothing."

The moment came. It wasn't sooner than he had expected it or later or even on time. He had just expected it, knew it as soon as his face was buried in the cooled sand and hands were groping his naked body in a hurried frenzy. It wasn't a frenzy of love or lust, just of mere domination. He expected the hits that his him on the head, but Bakura was also prepared for the kicks that he got back. "RaDAMMIT!" It wasn't certain who uttered the phrase, perhaps they both had said it. In a short moment of minutes there was a nasty cut under Mariku's eye and Bakura shirt had been ripped, his arm feeling strangely painful whenever he twisted it but he had the other in a lockdown.

Hovering above him he hissed. "I'll fuck you Mariku."

"Go ahead and fucking try you asshole!" Another defiant shake of his head, another try to punch him but Bakura stood his ground. If it hadn't been for this situation he, again, might have been amazed at the blonde's vitality.

If only the stars had shone differently.

"I'll fuck you so hard that you'll beg for me to stop." The blonde felt a tongue probing his ear and he turned his head away in disgust. "But you know what?" Hot breath against that same ear. "I won't stop. It's what sluts like you deserve after all."

There was no response. Only a flickering of hatred in Mariku's eyes that told Bakura that he was far from giving up. "You keep telling me of your cruel ways." After a short silence he responded, looking at Bakura levelly. "I've seen no such thing. You're all talk Bakura. Pathetic."

"You don't trust my fucking words?" He snarled, shoving the blonde deeper into the sand. "I'll have you scream Mariku, I'll fucking break you!"

"I told you before.. Why don't you just fucking try?"

The struggle that followed was fierce. It shouldn't have been possible but Mariku really did defy Bakura every step of the way. Punches were dealt, kicks were delivered and every scream that _was_ heard was certainly not the one of pain Bakura wanted to hear. Eventually he got a grip on him and pushed straight on through. He wasn't able to get much out of it, he had been right that the blonde had never done this before. One hand was pressed against his throat, leaving the boy with just enough room to be able to breathe but not struggle too heavily against his restraints.

Grunts and growls. A few pants. Mariku only responded with a low grunt, followed by a sharp intake of breath. He hadn't been prepared for this. The pain he could deal with, it was just part of yet another thing he could endure and ignore. But it was definitely humiliating. In and out he went, touching some places that the bastard shouldn't ever be allowed to touch. A few chokes noises were heard from his side, trying his best to ignore the feelings that came with this disgusting act.

He'd never expected this to feel in such a way. It was even more horrible than he'd originally thought.

"Hnn.."

The blonde had started to sweat and Bakura could continue ever so long. Not because of how good it was, by god no. It felt uncomfortable, tight and irritatingly slow. Moving forward would be painful and practically impossible considering how inexperienced the blonde was. He could continue for the little reactions; The heated flush on tan cheeks, the way the body under him responded with even the littlest twitches, the embarrassment, the sweat of his body. The pain it gave him.

"Tch… N-Not.. So tough hn?" He managed to grunt between pants, "W-woman that you are.."

There was no response. He couldn't help the way his body responded to the actions, be it in pain or even more embarrassing antics, but his mouth was sealed the entire way.

When Bakura finally retreated and flopped next to him, he paid no mind to the blonde's bloody legs or broken body. Within moments he wanted that gratification, needed to see the empty look in his eyes. "Not so kind am I?" he almost sounded giddy, like he wanted a confirmation for his cruelness, needed to know how much he had affected the other. But Mariku did not respond, just laid there on the darkened sand, stained with his own blood, staring up at the endless sky above him.

"Answer me!" he gripped that angular chin but when he looked back at Mariku's face there was no broken smile waiting for him. Nor were his eyes traumatized or was there even the slightest hint of shame, humiliation.

"…That all you got?" he was greeted with an angry grin. It was more than absolute apathy, because the blonde definitely felt shame, definitely felt the rage for what had been done to him and his body. But more than anything, he knew he'd been through worse. More than anything had he known that in order to keep his fractured mind in place, he needed to block the pain and the horrifying elements of human treatment. There would only be rage in its place.

It had hurt. It had been horrifying if he had not managed to ignore the obvious parts. Hold onto what he had. He was already too much of a monster to feel remorse, had already been broken beyond repair to have his soul ripped apart. It was readable in his eyes, those blank perfect eyes that seemed to show no expression. When he murdered he laughed, when he got hurt he just felt this blinding rage, feeding the inner demons that resided in his soul.

Bakura had met his match.

A blonde fiery match named Mariku Ishtar.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Again. My god, overwhelming reviews! I am terribly sorry that the update took a bit longer but hey I've still been able to do it within a month so... Haha. School got busy, a costume to finish, and I got sick for the second time in my life. I hope the longer update makes up for it though I felt like I was dragging it on and on near the end so please, if any corrections, mistakes or tips I would love to hear them. I hope the "scene" wasn't too awful for most of you. But I find it really odd and curious when people write out rape scenes as if they were pleasurable. Rape isn't pleasurable. So I hope it had enough detail but nothing _too _detailed.

I got half of this finished about a week ago. Right now I was determined to finish the rest of it. I wonder how many people expected Mariku at the beginning haha. Oh but Malik needs some love too.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Resentment

**Chapter 4: Resentment.**

* * *

Anger. Embarrassment. Burning.

The numbing pain that was starting to get on his nerves as it crept up his spine and set all his nerves on edge. He had lied to himself when he had said it didn't hurt. Of course it hurt, it burned with every step he was forced to take towards this town where Bakura resided. And it wasn't just the pain of the event of a day ago. It was forcefully dragging his feet through the hot sand, his stomach that growled and burned for it had been denied food ever since he came into the presence of Bakura, and his back that ached terribly with every step.

It reminded him step after step again of what had been done to him and that thought was worse to live with than any amount of pain was.

His back seared when he collapsed onto the ground near the village that Bakura had stopped at, which was nothing more than a few clay huts and made-up tents. The white-haired male barely acknowledged him until he was forced to stagger along to a hut that the thief declared his. It was there he was sitting now, forced to sit up against a wall, a position that his aching back protested against.

All he wanted was to sleep. Sleep and give his sore and deprived body a bit of rest.

But even if Bakura had let him, the blonde wouldn't ever grant him the satisfaction of surrender. Surrender was to be pitied and thus he sat up, bags reaching his hollow cheeks and stomach roaring terribly. He could feel his eyes drifting shut before he snapped them open in an instant when he realized this. The very thought of showing weakness, _again_ his mind screamed at him, repulsed him. The simple pleasure of lying down was to be deprived, like everything else that had been taken from him.

And suddenly the smell of food reached his nostrils and, as he opened his eyes that he had dared to close again, there was a tray of food in front of him. His first instinct was to reach out and grab it but when he saw the face squatting down behind the tray, sharp eyes regarding him with a nearly curious look and a suspicious grin on his face, the blonde retreated his hand carefully. "What's wrong Mariku?" the voice cooed and the friendly tone grated his nerves. "Aren't you hungry?"

Another rumble of his stomach was the answer.

"It appears you do."

The blonde said nothing. It was futile to deny and blaming Bakura for properly feeding him definitely felt like he _had_ been turned into a pet.

"Why don't you take it?" The grin grew wider. "You earned it after all."

Earned? What was the man going on about. God his stomach hurt. It didn't even matter anymore, he just wanted the food, needing to stop the agonizing pain every time it seemed his stomach curled up and died. Depraving him of food might have been horrible but it would be more horrible if he denied it again. Death wasn't an issue but a slow and painful one wasn't exactly something he wished to deal with. When he took the bread of the trail and shoved it in his mouth, it was then when Bakura laughed.

"You served me well yesterday after all!"

He nearly choked on the piece of bread he was about to swallow and it made the man opposite of him only laugh all the more. Now he knew why Bakura had given him food. The reason behind it was too horrible but as Mariku's eyes widened and stared at him, he realized he couldn't take the food away. His stomach, now promised with food, needed more of the nutrition. But the reason – The reason ..

"Eat it like the slut you are Mariku. I might not be so kind next time."

_He couldn't stop. _

Even if he hadn't thought it possible he recoiled at the food that he was forced to take in to feed his weakened body. It tore at his mind, the very thought of receiving this for that reason, it tore at the fractured memories that he had buried inside of his fragile mind. He could feel his back starting to burn again and the room beginning to spin.

_Don't give him the satisfaction._

Nausea overtook him but he managed to hold his head up high and look Bakura in the eye as he ate. No matter how he felt it would not be shown on his features. He could deal with this, like he had dealt with everything else. Receiving food was the important part now, forget why you got it, ignore him Mariku. You know you can do it, like you ignored everything else. Like you ignored leaving Malik or receiving your scars.

'_Ignore it,_' called that same fragile mind.

And so Mariku did.

* * *

Malik felt like dying. It hadn't necessarily been the work that was pushed onto him or even the wanton stares that he dared not to look back at. It was – it was.. Something beyond the psychical labour or his treatment here. More often than before was he longing for the sweet salvation of Mariku's character. How wonderful it'd be to possess his strength and absence of fear – No wait. That wasn't true. Despite what Malik had wanted himself to believe, he knew Mariku was not without fear. One who was without fear was an idiot yet Mariku's apathy seemed to suggest that he had none, even when he had been the person who'd told him so.

'_Sometimes there are more important things than fear Malik.' _

It was the reason why he kept going on now. He had to. The young blonde dragged himself through the palace, intending to just go back to the quarters where he slept until he bumped into someone and crashed into the floor a moment later. He didn't even bother to cry out. He felt eyes rove shamelessly over his body; it stirred an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Would this be the time? There was no one around in this empty hallway.. He kept his eyes closed, afraid what he might see when opened. Of course he'd been anticipating this, everyone who worked here mentally prepared themselves for such a moment. He just hadn't expected it to come.

'_Don't fear Malik.'_ _Mariku's voice had been flat as he said this, and as Malik dared to look at him only empty eyes returned the stare. They took away so much from his youthful complexion. The blood was still streaming down his back as he lay there on the stone tablet in front of Malik. His cries had long since died out, as if he had given up on something. But it was when the silence had set in that Malik had become scared. His fears were realized as he looked upon the once so flawless body of his brother, the strips of skin that hung from his torn up back. 'Don't fear these scars for they're not yours to bear.'_

_His eyes had changed. Once there had been a spark in them, perhaps even maliciousness that came with his cynicism of being kept here. Now they were the eyes of the dead. There was no hope in them, just the died out promise of hoping to ever live again. Every bit of innocence had been killed. _

_Mariku had been wrong. Malik was not afraid of his scars for, rightfully, they were not his to bear. It was the change in Mariku that had frightened him; the calm words that tried to soothe him when they should be screaming curses to what had just taken place. Instinctively Malik knew that his brother would never be the same again. When he felt the tears slide down his cheeks as he cleaned the tattered skin beneath him, he cried for the both of them. There were no more tears left in Mariku's body._

_They had dried up a long time ago. _

"Are you okay?" The exasperated voice right next to his ear was certainly not what he had expected to hear. Malik slowly dared to open his eyes and they were met with worrying brown ones. Perhaps it was their warmth that caused him to choke up suddenly.

"O my I have hurt you haven't I?" The boy started to panic when he noticed the tears that were not meant for him to see. But it was his concern that made Malik unable to stop the tears. He cried silently, dignified, because he knew that hysterics weren't going to help him here. Even if there was no person to scold him for it. "Oh dear, oh dear.." Gentle hands took a hold of his arm and led him away from the hallway down to the inner gardens of the palace, a place where they would not be disturbed.

Here, Malik's sobs weren't so quiet anymore.

For days had he been walking around like a mummy in a tomb, silent like the grave itself and motions as stiff and dead as the mummy. No one had been there to care as life went on. In this world you were on your own because no one was there to pick up the pieces. Even when he had still _had_ Mariku Malik knew that he was alone in this. He'd kept to himself when people were unkind because it was easy. Easy because if there was no one left to care for, there was no one to trigger any emotion from him.

And now he couldn't stop. His nightmares had been the only outlet for the stress that he'd been dealing with.

His relationship with the other blonde was unhealthy perhaps but in his eyes Mariku had been nothing less than the gods he was to communicate with. Just as defiant, his arrogance scaring Malik and his words hurting him on more than one occasion. The boy had had no constrictions. But Malik had adored him, _still_ adored him. And he was gone now.

There was a hand awkwardly rubbing his back when he was sat down on the edge of the fountain. "Shh.." There followed no words of comfort. That it was 'going to be okay'. It was strangely relieving to not hear such falsehood from a complete stranger even when he expected the sting of the words pretty early on. But no matter how much he waited for them, all he heard were more soothing murmurs. The hand, though awkward, didn't even feel that bad.

The moment he stopped crying though, the awkwardness of the situation returned in full force.

"Are you alright now?"

"No." It was an honest answer. He didn't even know why he said it.

"Can I help?" His voice was kind, so kind that it forced Malik to look up at him – and fall silent immediately.

Before he had not taken a good look at the other boy. Surely he had closed his eyes and was dragged off but there had not been a perfect moment. Neither was this. The white hair startled him, not even the colour startled him but both his hair and the pale exterior suggested that he was not from here originally. _'Why have I not noticed this before?'_

He looked like _him_. He was perhaps delicate in a nearly feminine way, had a body that was definitely not used to harsh labour and eyes kindly looked back at him. For a brief moment the image changed; the hair became wilder and not as kept, the delicate features not as sharp, the mouth curling into a snarl…. Almost aggressively he pulled away when his body resisted him with all its might. The same blind hatred and helplessness that had been part of why he'd felt like shit in the first place, came back in full force.

Fucking. Irony.

"I'm sorry.." And in the same instant it had come, it was gone again. This wasn't Bakura, this was not the person who had taken his brother away. "I shouldn't have pried." This was – This was..

"What's your name?" it was out before he knew it.

"Ryou." He sure didn't _sound_ confident. "Uhm.. Would you mind to tell me yours?"

"It's Malik."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

What was left to say anyway? He hadn't meant to cry, thank you for your help? It didn't work this way. A weakness was still a weakness and if there was one thing Malik had learnt, it was that weakness was not welcome in this world. He rose from his position on the rim, staring down at the other boy. "I'll see you around."

"….If there's anything you'd want to talk about…"

"No thank you." The harsher edge came back into his voice as he forced a grin on his face. "I'll be fine now."

And with that he walked off, leaving the boy to stare at him as he left.

* * *

"Ugh.." It had only been a few moments of bliss when he had eaten. The next moment his stomach sided against him when it was unable to take in the food he ate and rejected it. The result was vomiting and that in itself was not a pleasant feeling. More so Bakura had been watching him as he emptied the contents, grin ever present on his face. Of course the bastard had known this. Why else would he have withheld him from it, then give and wait to watch.

He hated him.

As he shakily moved from the ground he started to move his way around the tent, intent on getting out and rinse his hair of the disgusting smell and more things he did not want to think about.

"Where are you going?" his demeanour had changed. Mariku did not miss the dangerous undertone in his voice where before it had only been mocking.

He ignored him as he brushed past the other man before a hand gripped his shoulder tightly and threw him back in the tent again. The blonde had no way of backing up. His body was weak, unbroken but weak… Unlike his mind when eyes shone brightly and glared furiously at the man who dared to treat him like this.

Bakura advanced in on him but the blonde refused to move. If it was going to hit, it would hit soon and he would not crawl away like a coward. He didn't think he _could_ anymore either. The glare did not die though and Bakura noticed. The boy was not breaking. It was in vain, all in vain. The hands at his side started to tremble as he looked at the boy in front of him. He was there, sitting on the floor, untouched, unmarred… But how was it possible? He had hurt him, raped him, made him throw up, humiliated him.. In every possible way he had done damage and yet ..

"Stop looking at me like that." His voice was but a deadly whisper.

"Does it scare you?" It was met with nothing but defiance.

"Shut up.." closer, closer he crept. "Shut your fucking MOUTH!"

A kick was landed where ribs rubbed against thin skin. But aside from a gasp of air there was no scream that would've satisfied his urges. So he tried again, foot meeting a delicate shin this time. Before he knew it he had started kicking away at Mariku's body, all the while met with grunts of discomfort but not the screams that he longed for. How beautiful it'd be, screams to go with the blood that adorned his body now, for that face to give way to pain and fear and something much more beautiful.

"WHY WON'T YOU SCREAM?" He was inhuman. There was no way anyone would be okay after this. No way that he could still be there, leaning like he always did, body untouched except for those goddamned marks. It's like he had never touched him before.

The blonde was _like_ them. It was fate that he had been there to carry the marks and it made Bakura hate him more. The hate went deeper than this superficial meeting with him, went far beyond the hatred he felt for an individual. Mariku stood for an ideology, one that was met with fierce battles and defiance. It had to be broken. He didn't care how long it would take or what he'd have to do but that smirk had to be wiped off his goddamned face.

Breaking him would give him the satisfaction, the _peace_ he so longed to have.

"RADAMMIT!"

The next moment Mariku was unconscious, body having given up the fight. The lord stood there, panting as the boot of his foot was covered in the blood that had come from Mariku's body. There was no remorse felt as he looked at bruised bones and gaping wounds. Nor did he even feel sad for the youthful face that he had bashed in for he had always admired pretty things. He could only regret, regret that this had been yet another failed attempt. And with the regret came the angry cries that echoed in his mind.

'_Why, why, WHY can't I seem to break him?'_

The question was left unanswered.

* * *

**Author's Note: **My god. This took me long enough. I really don't have any excuses other than that college has been busy and I had no idea what to write for this at first. I know a bit how future chapters are going to go but then there's still a gap that needs to be filled. Fortunately I came up with ideas and - Yes Ryou had to be introduced! It's not been much of an introduction yet but at least he's there and I hope you like him. I have to say that the past reviews really did inspire me... I'm so glad everyone likes the story so far!

I hope that people did not give up on me already haha. I swear I'm writing! And I really do hope that you enjoyed this. As always; Comments and critiques are very much appreciated.


	5. Fragility

**Chapter 5: Fragility.  
**

* * *

Pause. Breathe. Take a stance, look around, stop.

His heart was going a mile a minute, teeth clenched as he walked about restlessly in his room and not understanding the hazy concepts his brain was enforcing on him. Never had it stopped whirring since he had stricken him but yet it had made no sense still. Ever since he had struck the blonde and his mind had involuntarily collapsed on itself, he had not stopped thinking. Not once had there been a moment of remorse, a shred of humanity when he had seen the teen scrunched up against the wall, obviously out cold.

The boy infuriated him.

"Calm down.." the pacing didn't. And it was only because this was taking up far too much energy for him to be concerned about. Yet the absolute lack of emotion in the blonde had managed to set something off and both body and mind had united to create a killer headache that would not pass and only fuelled his anger further. But he was not able to stop himself from thinking. It was self-destructive really.

"Fuck!" Even when there was a crash from when the shattered vase became audible from where it had landed on the floor, this sound was not calming him. He was trapped in his musings, unable to stop yet forever angry with the futile hope of a possible outcome.

Why didn't he _scream_?

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Bakura was not an easy person. He had hurt more than he could care to remember, twisted their limbs and made them scream before he discarded their mangled bodies in the empty sands of Egypt where no one would hear their futile cries. Never had he felt remorse, as such he felt nothing now, but at the same time he had never felt this much fury. He knew he needed to break Mariku but with every possible failed attempt it was getting much harder to keep his cool.

There was nothing psychological about this anymore. The subtle technique he had been trying to apply before would not even cause a dent in the boy's demeanour. And even if it _had_ then Mariku was a damned good actor.

"Radammit.." This curse seemed much less spiteful than the first but the intention was not lost behind it. He was still angry.

Flashes of mobs and fire came to him and he gripped his head when they did, a groan passing his lips when it all but aggravated his killing headache. A flash of a smile, white hair before the faces he had noticed smiling at him before turned to screams, their flesh burning with wounds so terrible that –

"Stop it." He hissed, tearing at his hair as he sat down on his bed, grabbing a bottle of alcohol which content he didn't know. He damn well knew alcohol and a headache weren't a match made in heaven but at this point he just wanted to forget. Mariku seemed a problem for later, a child that would wake up dizzily any moment now and Bakura wouldn't be ready for it.

He craved control. Needed it firmly grasped between the tips of his fingers, never letting it slip out again. The albino knew what it was like to lose control, to have everything taken from you and not have one darned thing be done about it. The memories haunted him until this day. He was determined to get everything, absolutely _everything_ back one day but in order to do that revenge needed to take its place. The hatred that burnt quietly inside of him, fuelled by incompetence of his men and every snippet of news he heard from the palace, did not only consist of revenge and anger.

Fear was laced through. A good deal of it.

Hatred usually spouts from fear, fear of things you cannot or will not understand. And Bakura had been on the receiving end of the hatred on many occasions. He was a white demon, a devil that did not belong between the sandy-coloured people of Egypt – living as an outcast in the village he had grown up in. It might not have been pretty, but it had been his home. A home where people had awaited him, who didn't care what he wore or what he looked like and had laughed at his prospects of ruling the country some day.

But this wasn't the fear that had been edged into his heart. It wasn't a fear that he couldn't understand but was definitely scared of feeling. The well-constructed porcelain mask he wore could not shown cracks. Not for his people, nor for himself. But he knew why he was scared because it was not the unknown that had made him grow afraid – it was the known that touched the parts of his mind that made him grow afraid.

The known that he could do nothing about.

They had come out of nowhere, taken what he loved most, destroyed what they could and left. All Bakura had been able to do was tremble with fear before he had to man up and face the facts. However, facts were not as easily faced as he had reckoned them to be. He had been all of fourteen years old, not a boy but definitely not a man. In order to deal with what had happened he'd had to look for someone to blame. There was a rage building inside of him, a rage that suppressed his inner turmoil and made him forget all about why he had been crushed in the first place.

Above the Pharaoh, above everything else.

He blamed the gods.

When everything was done and over with the boy had climbed up to be the leader of his band of thieves, a name that would be feared all across Egypt and force respect out of merchants and townsmen all over the place. His musings of becoming a leader had been realized but never would that hatred leave him. The gods had taken everything away from him and had given him nothing but hesitation and uncertainty. And yet his hatred stayed, revenge still needing to be fulfilled. One could do nothing about the gods could they?

But then why did Mariku's apathic face infuriate him so much?

* * *

The room came in dotty white spots, then a hazy glimpse, then slowly a clearer view of the floor he was currently lying on. Hack. A cough left his mouth only to discover that that pained his ribcage where purple bruises were starting to form. The blonde slowly crawled to sit in an upright position and looked over where he was, finding that the bastard hadn't even cared to move him. Not that he had been expecting anything different though.

There was still food somewhere in the corner of this room and while carefully making his way over, he slipped some between his teeth. It'd been proven last time that his stomach couldn't handle much no matter how hungry he was so he kept it with low portions. A hiss escaped his mouth every now and then when he moved a limb that was hurt or turned his head to feel a pounding headache. Of course the beatings were easier to deal with than the humiliation but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Fucking asshole.." he muttered before slipping a grape into his mouth. This must've been his food in the first place, grapes certainly were too high-up for a person like him. Or had this been part of his 'reward'? Hilarious how at first he had been so shaken and now he could barely remember what had upset him in the first place. The man wanted him to feel shame, that was his only purpose. And it was Mariku's to defy him every step of the way; if this was his desire than it was easier for him to not feel a radamned thing. Just bury it within the depths of your pathetic mind.

Life could be glorious if only you made that so.

In this life however, Mariku noted with a snort, there was no way he could ever be much more than this. Ironically it should've been better and yet it only grew to be worse. From a native's perspective, he was being punished for not believing in the gods. From his own perspective this was just life and he had to deal with it. There was not a next one, there would only be death.

Don't get too close to the sun.

"Get the fuck up." This posed to be not much of a suggestion as much of a command but even before Mariku had the opportunity to tell Bakura 'no' he was hauled to his feet and shoved towards a small cabinet. "Get dressed or I'll do it for you."

From the slight lull in his voice Mariku could tell Bakura had been drinking. The slight whiff of alcohol he caught reminded him of his father and the stench still made his skin crawl. As he turned to look at Bakura, the bloodshot eyes and shaky exterior told him enough. He might not be completely wasted but such a position put him in a rather dangerous spot. The beverage did things to people, maybe he should see this as a chance. Eyes kept darting towards the opening of the tent but another shove painfully delved the edge of the cabinet into his hipbone and he was forced to look away.

"The fuck is your problem?" It was all but a snarl before another shove had him hissing and a shirt was thrown at his face. It was of fine cotton and it only managed to confuse him more. Not wanting to waste another moment to argue with Bakura, Mariku figured he was best to get dressed if he wanted to survive in the desert. On his own. Chances were he'd die out there at night. It didn't matter that the man in question was throwing him out to survive on dry sand and hot air, didn't care that he would die regardless, if he was going to get away.. Only for a second..

"We're going to the city."

Mariku, in the midst of adjusting his tunic, stiffened but didn't whip his head around to look. The city? What on earth _for_? His weak body protested against what his mind was trying to do but he turned and ran at the other, preparing to deliver a blow on his stupid drunk face but before he even lifted his arm a blow to the gut had him doubling over, gasping as the air was knocked straight from his lungs and he fell to the floor, clutching the bruised skin.

"Don't be difficult." The man snarled before kicking him a second time, eliciting a wheeze from the other. "I don't fucking trust you here so you're coming with me."

It was futile. With every breath Mariku took it was clear his body couldn't take much on a low of nutrition and ill-treatment of it. Slowly he crawled out of his position on the floor and sat up, violet eyes cracking with the fire that burnt in them. He hated him. He hated his body for betraying him in such a situation, what had happened to the times when he could still… Kill.

The small victor of killing one of his men hadn't been enough. But right now it was clear he needed to provide himself with a good meal, a place to sleep and perhaps just _rest_. It didn't seem of much importance anymore _why_ they were going to the city, a city Mariku certainly had never seen and didn't know its mechanics of. All that mattered was that it offered an escape route away from a desert that would suffocate him within its sandy grip, away from this man that had been pushed far beyond sanity.

Mariku knew insanity was like. The viral grip that it held you in, choking you with its dark bounds until there was nothing but that slumbering darkness, begging to be awakened. Reason was beyond you, you could only rely on the emotion of hatred and that ever-lasting thirst for revenge and blood. The eyes of the other were ones he had seen in his father whenever he gazed upon him and, he was quite positive, eyes that his father had looked in.

That did not gain Bakura any more sympathy.

* * *

The hike on the camel he was on wasn't a pleasant one. His arms were wrapped around the animal's neck, his wrists carelessly tied with a knot that he was sure a drunk Bakura could not untie anymore. The blonde grit his teeth against the angry rays of sun that seemed to heat up his unprotected body but he had to at least be thankful that he wasn't dragged through the sand this time. Somehow it was becoming maddening at how seemingly apathic he was about this whole situation, his silence had replaced the raging psycho that he had been before when he killed Bakura's men, it had replaced the child that had tried to kill his own father.

This did not mean that everything he had build up, all the rage that still burnt beneath the surface, was gone. Rather, it was far more dangerous. It gave him time to think, carefully conduct plans because if anything, Mariku wasn't stupid. He knew he wasn't keen on staying here and he sure as hell was intelligent enough to realize that were he to stay here he would die, either from poor treatment or neglect. Because that was how Bakura viewed him, a pet he could do with as he pleased and as soon as the pet wasn't amusing anymore.. He could easily do away with.

Today he had expected the man to throw him in the desert and leave him to die. In his drunken haze however he had decided to take him with to the city. It wasn't much of a surprise anymore as it just made him doubt the man's fragile mind even more. With every fibre of his being did he hate him but it did not cease his interest, this morbid curiosity as to how he came to be. Nor him nor his father would ever get any sympathy from him, but Mariku knew why he was like this. There had to be a reason for Bakura's cruelty too.

"Get off that camel." A hand tugged at his bound wrists and Mariku hissed at him in a language the albino was not able to pick up on. "You bound my wrists asshole."

"….Oh." It was strange how much calmer Bakura was when he was drunk. The drink that usually brought out the worst in people somehow managed to calm the savaged beast. He was irritated with everything but his decisions were not made rationally and calculating.

Interesting.

As soon as the ties were cut, causing Mariku to curse at him when the knife sliced through his skin, the blonde was tugged off the animal and forced to follow the white-haired male in his tour to the city. There were two more men joining him, one was walking closely behind while the other was on his left side, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he kept regarding the sickly blonde. Marik wanted to laugh at how pathetic the man was being. What the fuck could he do now? He had no proper weapon, no strength left in this pathetic excuse of a body but yet he had surprised them earlier.

And it was surprise that kept men wary, one couldn't ever be too sure when the next surprise would come.

The walk seemed endless. He was dressed in a soft tunic, the fabric feeling good against his usually naked skin, but he still felt naked under the sun and walking in the heated sand. This was probably what it felt like to feel truly alone. Back at Bakura's camp he had felt like a slave, a mere toy, but one that had held his head up and fought back with everything he had. It was this new setting that confused him, he didn't know quite what to do with it. The hatred was still present, the agony that he had failed to ignore these past days he could still feel clawing at his heart.. And his mind was still – well. His mind seemed to deal with ignoring whatever happened in order to survive.

That was who he was right? He had to survive.

Without a word Bakura turned to him and gripped the tunic he had forced him into only moments ago, tightly. "If you so much.." he twisted the fabric, his face close enough for Marik to feel the breath on his face, "As dare to escape.. I will beat you within an inch of your life."

Mariku didn't gulp. All he did was shoot him that haughty look that was starting to piss Bakura off. It was just one thing that he needed to set him off.

_Slap._

"Animals should know their fucking place."

Even with a red handprint across his face, the blonde refused to acknowledge any emotion. He'd rather have been punched because a slap was as painful as it was humiliating. And he could deal with pain far better than he could with that emotion.

'_Just ignore it Mariku.' _His mind whispered in a tone that strangely sounded like Malik's, _'Ignore it like you ignored all else. You can't even remember what he did to you, just forget this like the rest of it.'_

His mind was lying. He was feeding him the same lies that Malik had always tried to feed him. _It'll be okay Mariku, we'll be happy after this Mariku, don't hate dad Mariku he means well – _Lies, lies and more lies. But what could he expect anyway? Honesty from his own brother, who was scared of his own shadow when he was young? Of course _he_ was the oldest, Marik didn't believe shit of 'destiny' but it wasn't a coincidence that he was born first and had to bear the scars. It was no fucking wonder his mind adopted the same fragile voice of his brother, because Ra knew his mind was as fragile as he had been, still _was_.

The blonde shook his head and continued on the way there, only to be surprised when he found himself within the centre of the city so soon already.

Music filled his ears from people around the street playing instruments, the constant buzz of their talking both irritated and enthralled him, there was a pavement, however small, under his feet where before there had been only sand. People screamed and laughed and _were alive. _He couldn't stop looking at them, never before had he been able to experience such a thing and yet immediately he hated every single one of them.

They'd had what he never had. Their livelihood he would never obtain for he knew that happiness was superficial and would disappoint you when you came around to meet something far darker. The little girl running around was something he couldn't have ever been. The old woman shouting abuse at her husband was an age he'd probably never reach. He hated to admit that part of his rage was due to jealousy, jealous and resentful of people whom he could never be, no matter how much he wanted to.

Bakura seemed to go off talking to a few people on the market, while the one of the grunts beside him went to steal the money whilst they were distracted. Even for a thief this was just petty, Mariku knew of Bakura's reputation and robbing tombs but for him to steal from simple people on the street was pathetic.

"Not good enough for you?" Apparently his haughty look on the situation was evident for the grunt next to him spoke, hatred lacing his words. "Stealing is below you, oh mighty son of a bitch?"

"….." It took Mariku a moment to reply. Honestly he didn't care about stealing, he cared about the way it was done. For all his arrogance Bakura had not even once managed to back up his words. "It's fucking pathetic to steal from humans."

A laugh was his answer, a cold tone lacing the sound. "Funny how a bitch like you can say this." Mariku clenched his fists. "While you're lying pathetically on the floor while you're being beaten."

In a short moment he was at the man's throat, his hands gripping and clawing at his face, not caring if he got hurt or died at that moment. He would take his words back! He would fucking TAKE THEM BACK! "SON OF A WHORE!" he screamed his throat raw as he tore at the man's clothing, nails scratching the skin open under it and leaving messy marks on the flesh. He could feel someone punching him but he wasn't sure, heard screaming from all around him as the town's people got alerted by their fight.

He knew Bakura's man had a knife but he didn't care anymore as it pressed against his abdomen. "Go ahead and cut me you fucking –" he was pulled away, legs kicking forward in order to reach that man who's words had torn at his mind.

"Calm down, just calm down." He didn't care for the words whispered behind him but as soon as he looked around him in pure blind hatred, pulling free from the man who had been holding him, he noticed that he was in a crowd and he couldn't see Bakura nor that man anymore.

It only took him one second to realize what this meant.

It took him another to find his legs running. On and on he went running, quickly getting out of breath and stealing a piece of food when he ran past a salesman, who shouted abuse at him. He didn't care, couldn't care as his vision blurred with all the passing houses and people screaming and yelling, his lungs burning with every step and his body trembling from exhaustion. He had not much energy but somewhere in his mind, something encouraged him to keep going.

The blonde had smelled the freedom and he wasn't going to wait until Bakura came to murder him.

Through a maze of streets he went, pushing people aside rudely and climbing up and under walls, desperate to get away as far as possible and within streets that Bakura wouldn't look for. It was a fickle hope that he felt but now he knew that anything was better than staying there, even if he didn't want to live at the palace with Malik.

After what seemed like ages, the blonde's legs had decided that they couldn't run anymore and he collapsed behind a small wall somewhere east of the city, panting harshly against the unforgiving stone. Minutes passed and he hungrily took a bite from the small melon that he had been holding all this time, despite his difficulty of holding it down.

He didn't know where Bakura was and in one fraction he was scared of what would happen if he found him. He was scared that, despite his effort, he would get kicked down again and taken away. The screams inside his mind never stopped, the resurrecting of what could happen never went away. Because in that crowd, where he'd run from, he had been damn certain when he heard Bakura calling. It was his name, called in a flying fit of rage, that he had heard through the buzz of screams.

"MARIKU!"

The hatred was so strong that it had send him flying before he even knew he could run. It was strong enough to keep echoing through his mind and to still keep sending shivers down his spine.

But for now he was safe. Now he could relax.

"Hello there beautiful." A voice purred into his ear and Mariku nearly choked down on his piece of watermelon. "Why don't you and I go have a talk somewhere?"

Mariku's heart felt like it would stop beating.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know I promised to update soon and I'm terribly sorry I, again, could not meet my one month deadline, but my exams were _finally _done a few days ago. So after work and the like I could finally finish this. It's a bit longer than previous chapters and I hope to have given a bit of insight in Bakura's character. I know things get a bit confusing but fear not! More will become clear soon. At least I really hope so. Why do I have the feeling I wrote this differently than I wrote previous chapters... Must be the time it took me inbetween finals.

Can anyone guess who this might be at the end of the chapter?

I'm also quite curious to hear what you guys think so far. I adore reading your comments and thoughts.


	6. Fascination

**Chapter 6: Fascination.**

* * *

It was a weird voice that had called to him, seconds before his body gave up and passed out. In the black depths of his mind he could still hear it calling to him. Strange how this happened. It was as if his own mind had enough spirit to fight and run but his body had given off a flat 'fuck you' and given up on him. Perhaps it had been too much to take in. How many times had this been, how many days had he been _gone_ up until now?

_Oi.._

It was that same voice calling. It was low, with a deep rumble, a sign of adulthood. It sounded.. Impatient by now, scolding nearly. It'd had a humorous before, a slight pitch, amused had he been.. What had changed? Why did he even care about this voice? Interesting to say it was one of contradictions. Deep, manly, had a lull in it that suggested amusement.. Kidding around. Different, so different.

_Wake up princess. _

As if he was beckoned at the call, the blonde's eyes slowly started to open, gazing into the not unattractive face of a fellow Egyptian. The tan skin was common, yet it was the white hair that threw him off completely and made his body want to crawl away from the sight. He didn't care how friendly he had been sounding, the short wild hair spread like wildfire in his vision, entangling and messing with his view.

"Get away from me." He hissed before noticing that his back was against a rock already and having the man sit in front of him, certainly didn't give him much room to move.

"Is that how you treat the person who took you when you fainted like a coward?" His opponent, how he'd come to view him, snarled at him. "You scared the hell out of me when you collapsed like that, jeez I was just trying to joke!"

His behaviour startled Mariku. It was peculiar. When a piece of cyllestis was shoved his way, Mariku accepted the bread without thinking. It was not in his nature to thank the other, so instead he eyed him warily as he slowly began to chew on the piece of food. He began to slowly realize that in a physical match, healthy or not, he would be no match for the other. Toned muscles stretched alongside his arms and body, chiselled abs gracing his stomach whilst the man sat and watched him eat, his demeanour as challenging as his own.

"What's your name?" the question did not sound unfriendly but his face stated otherwise. It just confused the blonde more, though not a trace of his emotions was shown on his face. He had to tread carefully and his trust was not to be gained at all, let alone easily.

"None of your business."

"Friendly aren't we?" The other threw back at him. "I won't bother with my own then."

Minutes easily turned into hours as the blonde could not do much but sit around and eat, and the other was refusing to leave him alone. More than once he felt his gaze burning more heatedly than the sun that reigned on them, and though he couldn't care less about being viewed, it certainly made him wary. What had moved the other to take him with him, as he had proposed? The events of earlier were still fresh in his mind and he certainly had not forgotten his one rule.

_Trust no one. _

"You look pathetic." A nod of the head was the only indication that the man was, in fact, talking to him instead of about him only. "What happened?"

"I don't wish to repeat myself." Mariku had finally managed to finish the piece of bread, satisfied with his stomach slowly regaining the ability to digest food. "None of your business seemed an appropriate answer earlier."

"It's Touzouko by the way."

"What?"

"My name." A grin appeared almost instantly as he noticed the blonde's obvious confusion. "Nice to see an expression on your face for once."

The blonde growled at him and stood up from the ground, not grateful for this man picking him up, but scowling at his body's failure for letting such a moron pick him off the ground. Touzouko? What a pathetic name. Too long for a worthy remembrance and his attitude was downright pathetic. _He_ was the one being pathetic? At least he wasn't grinning like his face was about to come off. It irritated him to no end that the man had seen a glimpse of weakness in him and it took quite a bit of self-control to contain that irritation. It easily led to anger.

If only his body hadn't been abused so much… He'd have been on the other in a second, throwing his physical disadvantages aside.. For now he could only lurk and hopefully get away from him soon. He wondered if the large male would let him. The feelings that radiated off him were certainly different than those of _him_. Instantly Mariku gritted his teeth, fists balled into the hot sands of Egypt as sand slipped beneath the cracks of his fingers.

The bastard would die for what he'd done to him.

Suddenly he started to laugh, a chilling laugh that spread all over the lowland. It seemed like he wouldn't stop, arms wrapping around his frame and a chortling laugh that rang over and over again, wheezing when he finally got out of breath. There was no humour in it, nor was there sadness. It was simply the mad dance of a psychopath that danced away and pulled his mind along on a string, the string where the dark thoughts followed.

"_I'll kill him." The words followed a laugh that had been similar so long ago. Violet eyes quivered at him in terror, a weak hand gripping the skin of the other. "Mariku – Please.. Please don't." It wasn't a weak attempt at trying to stop him, because the other blonde knew that his brother made no empty threats. There was a lack of self-control ever since the time he'd received those marks. _

_No. That wasn't true. Mariku had always been crazy like this, always been resisting until the point where their father had beaten him until he could barely walk. But forevermore would that laugh echo through the empty corridors of their tomb. _

_Mariku only looked at his brother with a grin, well-aware how he thought of him. "Wouldn't you like it if he died?"_

_Blood had adorned the walls that same night, and Malik wouldn't ever doubt his words again. Rishid had died and there had been nothing he could've done about it. Mariku was out of control, hating everyone around him with such a passion that he needed to be constrained. This anger knew no limits and his cruelty was far worse than Malik could have anticipated. Their adoptive brother had died in vain and while there was not a single loose thread that Mariku hadn't tied up, the blonde knew that it was his own brother who had been responsible for his death._

_They'd been thirteen years old. _

When Touzouko walked over to attempt to snap him out of it, Mariku was on him like a wild thing. He tore into him with his teeth, threw punches wherever he could and he kept screaming as the laughter had died out. There was no laughter now, only the bottled up anger left, spurred on by memories that he would never forget despite attempting to lock them away. "I'LL MURDER – YOU!" His voice had reached a dramatic pitch where the vocal chords strained to let it out, the words ending in a horrid screech as they'd gone past their limit.

Touzouko, feeling the blood run down and bruises form, knew that these weren't words to take lightly. The intensity behind them showed that the blonde was serious and he wasn't one of the first to notice this. His response was quick and as he threw Mariku off of him, the boy laid instantly still in the hot sand, his breath ragged and his screaming voice slowly dying down.

"…Why.." This wasn't what Touzouko was used to and he looked on at the teen, expecting tears or remorse but finding none of these. In the blonde's eyes there was nothing but a genuine confusion, surprise maybe. The voice cracked with each syllable and the blonde could still feel the skin under his nails where they'd scratched it off, still feel the adrenaline pumping through his body that made him feel so good.

The why wasn't ever answered.

* * *

"It's you again."

He recognized the voice but he hadn't made a single move to turn around. In the end it proved to be unnecessary as the boy suddenly darted in front of him, nearly tumbling over into the water fountain that Malik had always found so enchanting.

"Same place hm?" He didn't sound accusing, his voice only held the soft lilt that was always strangely comforting. "Are you done with your duties?"

"What's it to you." Nor could Malik understand why he was being so hostile – No. Scratch that. He knew _exactly_ why he was being so hostile. For days on end had the boy's complexion irritated him to no end and when he was confronted with him now, all the hatred he'd held for a counterpart returned fully. Would the boy betray him, hurt him like he was sure his double was hurting his own brother? Malik could only grin wryly. The world was full of mystery and, unfortunately, full of irony as well. It tasted bitter inside his mouth.

"Worried perhaps." The moon stood high in the sky, its light twisting the world below it and leaving most of the garden in blatant shadows, whereas Ryou was illuminated like a phantom nearly. Malik knew he couldn't accuse him of crimes he hadn't committed, it was unfair to lash out because _he_ had been the coward to let Mariku go. But he couldn't care. The world was unfair, wasn't it? He tried to sneer, trying to push the other away from him and this place, but the boy's smile – It was sad somehow. It held an alluring presence that Malik could only describe to a wound that was deeper than the surface would show.

It was a pain that he was familiar with himself.

"Mind if I sit here?" The albino quietly whispered, "I get quite lonely by myself and.."

"It's fine."

Soon they were sitting there, silent, in the dark where no guards could see them and no people would stare at them all day. Both were used to different responses, both treated with disgust and admiration that could quickly turn into jealousy. It was the combination of skin and hair, eyes that met lips, which gave others the feeling that they needed to be guarded. Difference was something to be feared and –

"I know you miss your brother."

The question startled him so much that he fell back into the fountain behind him, spluttering when his hair draped around him and stared at Ryou wide-eyed. Had he been right after all? Was Ryou that demon that had taken his brother away! "Where is he?" Instantly he was by the boy's side, grabbing his arm and shaking him wildly with a desperate cry, "Where are you keeping him!" The desperation seeped through his voice like the water was slowly clogging his clothes. He wanted to cry, wanting to feel the tears stain his cheeks again, he felt like he was dying all over again.

He couldn't remember when he had started to run around the garden, screaming Mariku's name like mad, over and over again until he felt a hand around his mouth and someone dragging him into a dark corner of the garden.

"Who's the idiot who shouted?" Malik could feel the hairs in his neck starting to rise and a shiver being sent down his spine. He didn't care who was holding him captive at the moment – but the voice that was calling now was one of the head guard… Were he to find him here, he would be in over his head. Whip lashes would be nothing, he might get treated worse than he was already treated now. A crack of a whip made him jump on his feet but he felt the hand being clamped tighter around his mouth, to prevent him from screaming.

The footsteps sounded heavy around the garden, the ground scrunching beneath every step. Leaves rustled in the wind as he passed and the blonde started to tremble at the prospect of being found. Slaves weren't allowed to be out at night, much less spend time in an inner-garden that wasn't meant for them other than to get water. He felt his heart was racing a mile a minute, the fear making him weak enough to nearly sit down on the ground, scared his legs might no longer support him. Hearing the voice call out near him, he tried his best not to tremble too much.

"If I find you… I'm going to cut your arm off.."

Malik choked on a sob that he'd been trying to hold on the topic of Mariku.

He felt the hand drawing him back, taking him with to a gate that Malik wasn't aware of. He didn't know why but he felt like trusting the person behind him, hoping for the best as he lead him out the garden, through a passageway and they finally ended up in a room that held between a slave-quarter and a guestroom. Several silken sheets were draped along the floor and corners, comfortable pillows lying next to them and he swore he could make out the faint traces of a bed in the corner. The reason why it felt like a slave-quarter however, was because there were several barely clothed boys and girls lying around the room, breathing softly.

Had this been a guest room, these people wouldn't be as scantily clothed as they were now.

And then it was clear to him. This wasn't just any slave-quarter, the boy wrinkled his nose in both disgust and astonishment, it was the room where the prostitutes slept. Some moved restlessly in their sleep, quiet giggles heard under the sheets, while others laid perfectly still, groomed to be as silent as possible to accommodate their masters. It was a concept completely foreign to the boy and he couldn't help but feel disgusted in their presence. How could they give up their sense of self so easily? How could they go along with the whims of bratty masters and – Malik would rather kill himself.

"Don't wake them now." The same soft voice of earlier trailed even here as his captor now finally let go of him and appeared in front of him. It was still Ryou. The same sad smile worn on his pretty little face.

"You're a whore?" Malik could barely contain his disdain, glad to have found an opening and cruel enough to take advantage of it. He would show him, he would radamned show him how petty and low of a human being he was!

To his surprise Ryou only shrugged his shoulders helplessly and pressed a finger to Malik's lips, expression the same. "Don't call them that," The expression changed briefly, grew fiercer and for a second Malik was scared that he would morph into the demon that had been Bakura. "Like you, we're people too and like you.." A brief silence followed as Ryou looked upon the others with a look that resembled more of an old man, than what would fit his youthful face. "We had no choice in the matter."

The other didn't know what to say, his face partly illuminated by the flickering light of candles burning around the room. It expressed several things; pain, guilt, sadness. Ryou noticed this but before he could open his mouth to speak, Malik had already done so.

"How do you know about my brother?" His tone was accusatory, a hint of malice still laced through. He couldn't let his guard down, he couldn't _trust_ him. The boy already looked far too much like the demon that had taken his brother captive, the one that had threatened to kill him, that there was no way that he'd hand out his trust so easily. The world was a cold and dark place and despite Malik's hopes for a change, it only grew darker as he got older. He couldn't bear to look at himself now. When he was young he still had Mariku, now he was sold into slavery by his own father and had absolutely no one.

"The people in this place…" There was nothing left of Ryou's previous stern words as he fidgeted with his robe uneasily. "..They talk."

"Oh." Such a simple response he hadn't expected.

"They told me.. About your brother.." Ryou's voice was a gentle one, one that didn't pry or accuse him of anything. Malik instantly regretted judging him for what he was here, everyone _knew_ you had no choice here. "… Pardon my language but.. They talk of how they expected a god-sent boy coming here, and all they got stuck with was his useless brother."

Malik's face pulled into a grimace. He said nothing.

"I'm sorry about your brother… Was, I mean.." The boy's face grew even more uneasy, "Did he pass away?"

"No." Malik was resolute in his answer and he grit his teeth. "He isn't dead, but by now.. I'm starting to doubt that very theory."

Every day he had prayed, every day had he looked at the stars and cried his heart out, praying that someone out there might hear him. Praying that his brother, for all his faults and all his mistakes, would not be punished and still be alive. In the hands of that monster, what else could he be but dead? Fear gripped at his heart every single day that he did not see a sign of his life, separation was horrible, but Mariku's death would be devastating. It would ultimately _destroy_ him.

A delicate hand touched his briefly but the blonde didn't jerk away from the touch. "What happened?" He sounded sincere, _so_ sincere but.. How could he trust him? True that he hadn't caused Malik any trouble the previous time but what evidence did he have that he wouldn't this time?

"He – He was taken away from me."

"I see."

The boy's lack of response infuriated him. How dare he not care? How dare he pretend like it was a trivial matter! Furiously, the blonde turned, only to discover that Ryou's silence didn't come from a lack of interest. The eyes that looked straight-ahead seemed to be caught in their own lost memories and it was all Malik could do but touch Ryou's arm in turn. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Malik." The boy didn't shrug the hand off, as Malik hadn't turned him away previously. "It's just that.. I think I understand how that feels."

"You have a brother Ryou?" It wasn't surprising really. Most slaves here had siblings, parents they'd had to leave behind.. This was how much the Pharaoh cared about his citizens. Perhaps Mariku had been right. Maybe there really _were_ no gods.

"I had to leave him." The boy's voice grew thick and he took Malik's hand to another corridor, a hallway where there were no slaves that pretended to be asleep and no dimmed lights to partly illuminate their faces. Here, on the muddy ground and under the dark sky, there was not the slightest illusion of paradise, a trick to comfort you into thinking you would be safe. It was here that Ryou could let his own tears fall. "I miss him greatly."

In the glistering of the moonlight Malik could tell the tears apart, bringing a hand up to Ryou's delicate face and carefully rub them away. It seemed like they stopped as soon as they'd come. The boy was so unlike him. Malik had cried his heart out, screaming, tearing at his hair and would not stop until the raw wound that had opened in his chest had started to sting less. Ryou was quietly crying, not even a wracked sob passing his lips, yet behind his tears lay the same agony and pain that Malik had experienced. Both knew what it was like to lose someone you held dear.

"What happened?"

"It's.. It isn't your concern Malik.." Like him he was reserved, afraid to get hurt. Again. As horrible as it was, Malik felt intrigued, wanted to know what had passed between him and his brother. Fate had brought them together, he was so sure of it… He didn't care about his own restrictions anymore. The boy's pain was as real as any.

"My brother was sold to a cruel man, into slavery." He told him, carefully whispering as he was still afraid an unsuspecting slave might hear them. "My father hated him so .. So he sold him. He threatened to kill me if I didn't step out of the way and.. Coward as I was…" A humourless laugh. "I let him slip away."

"Did your brother ask you to stay?" The words came out strangely strangled.

Malik was taken by surprise. "Y-Yes he did. He told me to stay if I valued my life.."

"Then he cared a great deal about you."

The words threw him off. Were they true? How could Ryou possibly know… He had never met Mariku, had never seen his cruelty or his haunting laugh and those psychotic eyes that followed you around. The same boy who hadn't cared when they might be taken away. He quickly wiped his eyes in a frustrated fashion, growing even angrier with himself that he found them wet. "Radammit!" He hated this. He hated the fact that he let his emotions run freely, hated that Mariku _always_ made him feel useless, even when he wasn´t here.

"You want to know why Malik?" he said, staring off into space, "Because it's exactly what I told my brother."

"Did you want to leave him?" Malik looked at the other questionably, needing an answer to solve his own doubts and fears.

"Are you joking me?" Ryou laughed humourlessly, a cruel feature that a boy like him shouldn't possess. It was after, that a short pensive silence followed.

"Of course I didn't."

* * *

It was evening now and despite not knowing where the hell he was, Mariku found the depths of the cave comforting. On the hot sand had he been lying, laughing until he could laugh no more and giving up the fight when Touzouko had easily thrown him off of him. There was no honour gained in this, not like his pride would allow him to feel weak however. The blonde groaned as he sat up, alerting the thief who was lying not even 10 feet away, but who made no retort.

"Why did you take me here?" his voice hissed in the dark, bouncing off the walls of stone and granite, coming back to him in quiet whispers.

"Don't think I'm a good-hearted person myself," The other shifted position before he sat up himself, the shimmers of moonlight reflecting on his face as he grimaced. "I don't do this usually."

"Then what's changed?" Mariku's voice sounded especially haunting when you couldn't tell where he was.

"You fascinate me." Strangely enough it was an answer Mariku could work with. It hadn't been pity, which had enraged him in the first place, nor had it been an exchange of services like Bakura would have wanted from him. Fascination was strange, Mariku wouldn't be able to figure out why, but so long as it wasn't pity or a weak attraction of sorts.. He guessed he could live with it. That is, until morning would be there and he'd take off instantly.

"And why, pray tell, do I fascinate you?" He no longer felt quite as threatened now, started to laugh again in a haughty manner. It was pathetic how much this thief was bearing to him but he might as well pass time.

"Do I need to flatter you stranger?" Touzouko's voice came back to him in a teasing manner and the blonde growled. He didn't like to be played around with. It only drew a laugh from his strange companion. "Oh, did I make you mad now?"

"It would be wise not to get me mad, thief."

"Ah, you've figured out that much?"

"The cave is full of hidden gold and lost treasures thief, judging by the content I know you've raided tombs." A brief silence before he hissed, hateful, "I've spend enough time in a tomb to know."

"Hm. Then you'd be correct, stranger."

"Stop the stranger tactic, it's irritating the shit out of me."

"Then what _should_ I call you, oh great one?"

He was obviously getting a kick out of this. The blonde grit his teeth and tried to ignore the faint grin he could make out beneath the shadows of this place.

"Mariku." He hated to admit that. Out of everything, that had been the thing he could've kept to himself. But it was irritating to admit that he hated the man's constant pet names more, than he hated to give out his own. He didn't care if he knew anymore, a name was just what it was. A _name_. It gave one neither control nor power over you, it just served a connection, as thin and fragile as it was. Touzouko had already given his and now that he was aware of his own, this bond had been established.

"Mariku huh?" The thief mused over it before he rolled onto his stomach to look at him. "I wouldn't say it's been pleasant to meet you… -"

"You'd be more of a fool than I've given you credit for, if so."

"But I guess it's been interesting to say in the least."

There was just something about the other. In the midst of the chaos of the city, Touzouko had seen everything. He'd noticed how close the white-haired male had kept him and had concluded immediately what Mariku's position had been. A mere slave. That's why at first he hadn't been interested as he'd watched the fight go down between the other men around him. But the longer he watched the blonde struggle endlessly for life, fight for what he claimed belonged to him – dignity, respect and life being the most important ones – Touzouko became enthralled by his being. It was something he had to steal, had to take with him, yet not touch it. It was far more challenging being granted permission to touch this crazed specimen, instead of taking it instantly.

'_You're a fool for ever taking this.' _Touzouko nodded to himself, the corners of his mouth curling into a lazy grin.

"Stop your fucking grinning, there's nothing to be happy about."

'_Indeed I shall be the fool, for him I will.'_

* * *

A knife was draped messily over the robes of the man he'd just killed him with, his lifeless eyes staring at him in fear and shock, mouth hanging open just a tad in an attempt to scream. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter to him that he'd known the man for the past 2 years. If you managed to screw up, you screwed up, and Bakura made no difference in how long he knew the guy. It simply didn't matter anymore.

Both the men he'd taken with him had been killed in the back alleyways of the city, tortured until their screams were starting to irritate him and he'd slit their throats to be done with it. Naturally he had been angry so their deaths had been rather messy but how else would he respond?

"Fucking… Tch." He barely made an attempt to cover the bodies, their useless corpses would be discovered in the morning and when the high-pitched screams would follow, he'd be long gone in the desert. His whole body still trembled with a rage storming through his veins but at least he'd managed to kill the two who'd let his slave escape. He should've fucking known better. With a snarl Bakura stepped into the shadows of the alleys, and made his way over to the foot of the city, where his horse was still carefully waiting.

Hadn't he known better previously? The blonde managed to surprise him every radamned time! He threw his knife angrily into the ground, the sand splitting as the tip hit it and startling one of the horses, which started to buck in fear. Animals could perhaps not only sense fear, but rage as well. He hated this, the feeling of being lost and not knowing what to do. The white-haired male kicked the sand in utter frustration as it flew everywhere, stomping down on it the next. "I'll kill him, when I find him – I will fucking kill him."

He'd said it, didn't he? If Mariku dared to escape, dared to tread only one fucking step into a different direction… No no, he wouldn't kill him. That would be far too easy. ... What he had planned for the blonde would be far more cruel than death.

"Don't worry Mariku…" The grin on his face was infinitely more terrifying than the previous rage. "I'll find you soon enough."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow this took me longer than I originally thought. Perhaps because I had planned something else previously and then Ryou and Malik came along and I _had_to write about them as well. Don't worry about Ryou! His past will become clearer soon, as will Malik's, despite people basically knowing what he's been through. So! Here's to introducing Touzouko! I had a fun time trying to figure him out, but he's been the most difficult to write so far. Obviously he's a different character than Bakura in this fic, but I quite liked introducing him.

And so the plot thickens!

As always. I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts on it.

Oh! Since I've gotten a question on it - Touzouko is just Thief King Bakura. (Touzouko means Thief King anyway). He is also known as Akefia but considering that's the name the fandom's given him, and not the original one, I decided to go with "Touzouko". I hope that clears any questions!


	7. Secrets

**Chapter 7: Secrets.**

* * *

A next day arrived and Malik couldn't remember where he'd fallen asleep until the hot sun warmed his body, and a rustling of blankets alarmed him of another presence. When he opened his eyes, the eyes of Ryou were the ones that stared back at him, as confused as his own were. They were hidden away in a slave quarter until a third presence came up to them.

"You guys shouldn't sleep in corridors." The boy wore a scowl, "We had to drag your asses back in here, on neutral ground."

"You did this Razel?" Ryou blinked, sitting up to stare at the dirty-haired blonde. Malik didn't know what to say, watched them with narrowed eyes and dragging the blankets closer to his chest.

"Tch. No choice did we?" the boy feigned disinterest but his care was obvious. In between all the hatred that was breeding amongst slaves, rare friendships and even rarer kinship was mended here. You cared for each other like you would for the family you had to miss because who knew would happen if you didn't? No one wanted a new one in their midst and it was terrible to say goodbye again if they messed up.

"Thank you Razel." Ryou stood up and clasped his shoulder with a frail hand. "We're grateful for your help."

Malik finally managed to get up and mouthed a way of thanks.

"Be sure to .. Well." Razel seemed uncomfortable with what he was about to say next. "That man asked for you."

"Ah.." If Ryou was uncomfortable, it didn't show on his face. "Does that mean that..?"

"Be sure to be here at night." Contrary to the white-haired boy, Razel seemed to grow steadily more uncomfortable, the longer he was there. The lines on his youthful face grew harsher and he grasped Ryou's hand in turn. "Be careful. I don't like him." And with that he was gone, leaving Malik to wonder what had been going on between the two. Ryou seemed to stand there by himself, lost in his own thoughts as they swam in his dark eyes before, finally, he stared up at Malik.

"What was that about?" He spoke before the other did, which left him to wonder if Ryou was ever going to.

"Don't concern yourself with it."

This was a radamned standard answer! Malik felt like shaking the other boy, hating his ability to shield himself and nearly wishing for the tears that he had watched fall the night before. It hadn't been a dream, and he knew that as well as Ryou did. He nearly wished back for the hot sands of the desert, the cool interior of tombs that they were to guard.. That strong hand that used to grab his and silently told him, without words, that everything would be okay. Here he had no one, it was here he felt this overpowering need to protect the other like Mariku had been protecting him.

"About last night.." Ryou muttered, already embarrassed with himself, "I – I'm really sorry for letting myself go like that."

Did Ryou perhaps feel the same? His interest was piqued.

"I've been bawling like a baby before." The blonde snorted and lifted the other boy's chin. "Let's just get along shall we?"

Just then, at that moment, there was a hint of a smile. "…. Yes."

"Was that an agreement to please me or an actual answer?" When did he get so bold? He didn't know, he didn't care. Perhaps it had been in the confession of yesterday, strengthening him that he wasn't alone in this, that there was someone who _did_ care.

"Both. But it's a decision of my own accord."

And maybe, just maybe, Ryou felt the same.

* * *

Despite Marik's wishes of leaving the next morning, the thief would have none of it and was, to his dismay, up earlier than he was. During the day, irritating as it was to admit, Marik began to get used to his company, the haunting laughter that might've frightened many but Marik. Perhaps it was because the blonde knew, somewhere between the grins and the hints, that Touzouko might not be a completely carefree thief. He wasn't stupid, he knew that being a thief came with hardships and terrible stories.. He just wasn't terribly interested to know.

"You really don't have to gut him you know," The thief looked at him pensively as he stared at the knife in the blonde's hand.

"You killed it, I'll skin it," came the simple reply. "I'm not the kind of person to like being someone's debt."

"I already told you –"

"And you've already annoyed me by trying to get me to stay."

"Fine."

Strangely pleasant company indeed. It'd been long since he could bicker with someone without immediately grabbing them by the throat and killing them. He didn't trust Touzouko, he'd be mad if he did, but in his current position he couldn't exactly harm him or run from him. He'd be no match, even if his body _had_ been healthy.

"What's that on your back anyway?"

Immediately Mariku felt his shoulders tense and he instantly turned around, back facing away from wandering eyes and curious looks. "The fuck are you talking aout?"

"Your back." The other responded dryly, "It shows."

The bandages that he'd carefully wrapped around his lower back, beneath a tunic that he'd long since taken off, had started to come off. A part of the intriguing pattern of his scars was now laid bare. The blonde wasn't the one to panic but right now the cold sweat started to sink in. Not only did he hate anyone seeing them in general, their beauty being created by nothing but cruelty, but there was this whole 'god business' that he had to worry about.

"What's it to you?" he snarled, unconsciously gripping the handle of the knife tighter.

"Not as much of a big deal as it is to you, apparently." The silver-haired man cast a careless glance at the knife. "Just put it down before you cut yourself, I won't ask."

"You already did asshole." He wouldn't calm down, wouldn't let the knife go. Too scared of being persecuted for them, again. He knew the look Bakura'd had when he first laid eyes on them.. He knew the general response of normal people.. Some would love them, others would envy him and more often than not – they would hate him. Hate he could deal with, it was the usual violence that he'd rather not deal with. Not now, not again. Not now that he finally had the slightest hope that he could escape from the hell he'd been in.

The walls in the cave seemed to meet him across the middle of it, creeping closer and ensnaring his body into a tight hold. A few drops spilled carelessly on the floor when a hand met the sharp edge of a knife.

"Let it go Mariku."

A warm hand squeezed his but the blonde hissed and recoiled from the touch, slicing away in an instant defense without actually hitting anything. _Hot red blood spilling over the floor, marking the grounds with yet another sacrifice of the Ishtars, screams forgotten in the tomb that the Pharaoh declared sacred.._

"Stop it!" the blonde hissed, gripping at his head, and blindly stabbing in the dark pools of the prison his mind held him captive in. No matter how much he might've wanted to escape it, Mariku was trapped within his own insanity, experiences having led up to this mess up a mind that even he couldn't fathom. The cave started to remind him of the depths of the tomb he'd been locked in and Touzouko's voice started to sound like screams of his father.

"Mariku!"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" there was a hint of panic in his voice before he got up and bolted the room, finding himself in the same haphazard labyrinth of tunnels that he was accustomed to. Blindly he ran with no sense of direction, hands scraping across the gritty walls while he heard Touzouko yell behind him, voice bouncing off of those same walls. This is what he should've done in the first place. There was no kindness to be expected anywhere in this whole radamned world. How could he have been making peace with a thief whom he knew not, and would not care for. It was downright insanity, insanity within an insane mind that wouldn't dare to tread along the depth of human kindness. After all, it had been absent.

Suddenly his feet skidded to a halt and he leant against a wall, panting, until he heard another voice, one that was far more ominous than Touzouko's had ever been.

"I know you're here Mariku." Goosebumps erupted from his arms and were standing on the back of his neck, chills going through his spine. He knew that voice. He knew it when he'd escaped it as it screamed after him through the spider web of people being behind him.

What on earth was he doing _here_?

"Remember what I said last time?" His heart started to race. "I might have to kill you by the time I'm done." 

* * *

It'd been a long day that Ryou and Malik spent together. Despite the fact that the snow-haired boy didn't have to, he helped Malik with his daily chores so that they were done early together, spending the remainder in each other's company. It was a surprise to Malik how easy it was to talk to the other boy, certainly as easy – if not easier, he had to admit guiltily to himself – as it had been talking to his brother Mariku.

Though he had to admit, what they talked about was all the more reason for his curiosity to burn. Ryou was kind, smiled softly, while Malik knew what he was in this palace and had chosen this path of his own accord. Malik had grown, with frightening realization, to be more like Mariku. He wasn't quite as apathic, still believed in the gods above even if he had grown to dislike them, but he had to admit to himelf that he didn't care as much as he used to. Was this what happened to you when you lost everything? Had this happened to Mariku when those symbols carved every bit of innocence away?

"RYOU!" a voice in the distance bellowed as him and Ryou had been sitting comfortable in the garden, that they now called their haven. They immediately both jumped up, Malik in shock, but Ryou in pure fright. Hot white terror was written all over his angelic face, and the blonde knew instantly something was _very_ wrong. The boy knew the voice.

"Hide Malik.." he cried out in desperation, and pushed Malik towards the same bushes he had hidden him in only the day previously.

"But – but why?" Malik found himself asking as he was ushered into the plants, hidden from sight as he noticed the other boy trembling badly under the now renewed sound of approaching footsteps.

"Please." Ryou's eyes pleaded with him, "Keep quiet or he'll find you." And with one last push to Malik's chest he quickly scurried off into the center of the garden. The blonde could only watch on with confusion written all over his face, peering from between the leafs. And then it suddenly came to him.

_Be sure to be here at night. That man asked for you Ryou.. _

When Malik looked at the stars, he noticed that it had turned night, and Ryou might be in big trouble.

And then he came, stomping through the place like he was a raging bull and, with a gasp, Malik noticed that he might resemble one as well. His hair was wild like that of a lion, long tresses down his back, and his eyes were slightly too small for his grotesque face, lying deep in his skull and wide with rage. With a wince Malik noticed him grabbing Ryou's frail wrist, who merely bowed his head, afraid to speak.

"Hasn't the boy told you?" he hissed at Ryou, and Malik knew he meant Razel from this morning. With the rage he was emitting, Malik prayed Ryou would just tell him that he forgot to tell him, that it had slipped his mind.. Anything to stop this man from hurting him. He could see the delicate white skin already turning a strange purple under his grip… But, noble as Ryou was, he simply nodded his head and replied in a soft voice. "He has told me master Najib, this morning."

"Then why.." the grip tightened and Malik saw Ryou wince, "Were you not in my room Ryou?"

Malik wanted to hurl himself at him. Once he had permitted someone he cared about to slip away from him, and now he was about to let Ryou get hurt. He would not be a coward any longer! He grit his teeth and the branches of the bushes rustled as he wanted to come out of hiding but Ryou caught his gaze and nearly unnoticeably shook his head. "I had lost track of time sir."

"It's not good enough Ryou," the man leered and pulled him close to his chest. "I think you'll have to let me kiss you tonight to make up for it." And with that he pulled him even closer, smashing his dry lips against Ryou's soft ones and Malik looked away, too disturbed to watch the ordeal unfold. He knew what was about to happen, and he could do nothing about it.

More smacking noises ensued, a soft surprised gasp from Ryou that he was sure he had disguised from one of horror, and when he looked again, the boy was simply standing here, shivering in the cold as he clothes had been torn away.

Tears of anger gathered in Malik's eyes as he noticed Ryou like this, humiliated like this..

'_Oh Ra please…' _he begged inside his head, sinking down on his knees to pray, _'Please not Ryou too.. Please let the man die.. Please leave Ryou alone..'_

But the gods were not so kind. Under the brutal light of the moon and the stars, the man known as Najib had thrown the lithe boy on the ground, feeling him up wherever he could, hands roaming into places that made Malik blush to think about. Ryou's eyes found his again, a plead\ lying in their brown depths, but it was not a plea for help. It was a plea that begged him to look away, to not witness what had brought shame upon his very being. And Malik, tears rolling down his heated cheeks, obeyed.

All he heard were grunts and cries, hearing how rough the other man must be with the only friend he'd ever managed to make. The blonde bit down on his lip so hard that the skin broke and he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

"Ah.. N-No.. _Please_.." Ryou had begun to beg.

"S-Shut up.. You good for nothing little.." a pant, another rough thrust and he heard Ryou cry out in obvious pain.. "You're a whore Ryou.. stop – pretending to dislike it.."

"_Please_ it – it hurts.."

"Deserve it … hnn.. making me wait.."

Malik could no longer hear it, bringing his knees closer to his chest and putting his fingers in his ears, softly rocking himself as he cried for the boy who was abused on the floor. The cries came through, heard the sand moving over the ground that he was sure made angry marks on Ryou's skin, and he cried his heart out, softly and silently.

And then, it was over.

He quivered as he heard the footsteps echo away, a door being slammed in the far back when he finally willed himself to move. As he got up, he heard something that was even more terrifying than Ryou's pleas and cries before, because as he felt the cool night air on his face… He heard faint sobs from where the boy must surely be lying. Through bones it went, terrifying as it was that Ryou, who never showed more emotion than was necessary, never uttered a sound that he deemed unfitting, was crying loudly and wretchedly.

"R-Ryou?" Malik didn't trust his voice, as it shook when he called out to him.

The sobs did not stop. It seemed Ryou had stopped caring if there was anyone around to hear him.

Slowly Malik drew closer, holding a hand up to his mouth as he saw the nauseating sight in front of him. The boy was lying on the ground, shivering and crying, his legs drawn up to his chest, a dark stain under him with something lighter, and Malik tried not to think about what it was. He shook off his own feelings, took a deep breath, and kneeled down beside him, trying to withhold more tears from spilling when traces of the earlier ones were still on his cheeks.

"Ryou.." he tried again, voice attempting to sound strong as he brought a hand closer to the white-haired boy's shaking frame. He tried not to feel hurt when the recoiled from his touch. "Ryou.. Let me help you.." The boy seemed too lost in his own cries, that had begun to quiet somewhat, even though the tears still flowed relentlessly. Slowly Malik begun to wrap an arm around Ryou's waist and when he didn't protest, he drew him up to the water fountain where they had earlier spent the afternoon together.

Slowly he lowered him in the cold water and though the boy started shivering more profusely, he made no comment. "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.." Malik kept whispering over and over, as he took a bit of water and gently rubbed it over the boy's back. He tried not to think about the wounds on his back, knowing that the man had not left it with just….. that. "I'll get ointment real soon.. I promise.." he felt like crying as he kept addressing Ryou's wounds the best way he could, focusing first on cleaning him up.

Ryou said nothing, even though the tears had stopped flowing now and he could only hear dry hiccoughs.

Malik wasn't sure of what to do now. He had to get ointment to clean Ryou's wounds before they got infected, he wasn't sure if the water kept them clean like this.. When he finally tried to stand up to get them, intending to leave, he felt a frail hand grab his wrist.

"Please…" Ryou's voice had resorted to the same begging voice of earlier, and it made Malik sick to hear it. "Please don't leave.."

"I won't leave," he said resolutely, sitting on the ridge next to him and taking his hand, tears in his own eyes again. "I just .. I just want to get some ointment for your wounds.. to dress them.." he felt his voice dying away as Ryou winced, knowing Malik could see every inch of his body, and knew what had happened.

"Please.." he said again, his voice still cracking, but not as pleading as before.. "Don't think of me differently, don't .. don't hate me.."

And without knowing why he did, Malik snaked his arms under Ryou's armpits and hugged him close, feeling his clothes getting soaked but he didn't care. All he cared about was the boy's startled gasp, his warmth trying to warm the other boy and just trying to let him understand that he didn't care. He just wanted him to be okay. He didn't speak, just heard his own ragged breath as he inhaled deeply and felt the tears streaming down his face, dribbling down onto Ryou's back.

"Oh Ra Ryou…" he cried softly, after dreadful minutes of utter silence, holding him tighter, not wanting to let go. "… Ryou.. I'm so sorry.. so fucking sorry.."

And then slowly, Ryou hugged him back, his cold hands creeping up Malik's back and lying his head against Malik's chest, listening to the heart beating wildly behind his ribcage. He still didn't speak, perhaps because he was scared to speak.. But in Malik's arms he felt reassured that the boy wouldn't leave him.

After what felt like an eternity, Malik began to strip off his own clothes, wearing nothing but a short underskirt as he hauled Ryou out of the water. Softly, giving him a quick questioning glance before doing so, he pulled his robes over the other, dressing him.

"Malik…" Ryou's voice was soft, and back to normal, though a bit shaky, "Malik you don't have to –"

"I do have to." Malik's gaze was determined, gritting his teeth, as he finally pulled the garment over Ryou's head. "You're shivering, please just take these."

"Thank you.." Malik thought he heard a sniff there, but he might have imagined it, because when he looked at the other, he saw no trace of a tear. "Will you stay with me tonight?" the question came as a surprise but without much thought he immediately replied. "Of course I will."

Funny how terribly cruel life was. Malik had always wanted to protect someone, _anyone_ in his life, as he hadn't been there for both Mariku and Rishid, or even Ryou at first… But he had never wanted anything as cruel as this to happen to the other for him to be able to 'help out'.

"Ryou.." he finally muttered, "Why on earth… why did you choose to leave your brother.." Right as he'd said it, Malik regretted it. He felt like it was too personal to ask, almost accusatory, as to why Ryou chose to let himself.. let himself get..

Instead Ryou only smiled sadly. "Do you really want to know?" It seemed, that with this, his reservations were gone. Or maybe, Malik hoped, he finally dared to trust him after this.

"Yes."

Ryou seemed to take a deep gulp of air. "Okay then.. I'll tell you." Malik seemed to settle down on the edge of the fountain again but Ryou laughed softly, "But first let's get you dressed shall we?"

Malik could only nod. Despite Ryou's behaviour, he had a feeling that his tale might be worse than what he had just witnessed.

* * *

Mariku tried to stay calm. Despite the mutters of inside the cave, he knew instinctively that Bakura could not know where he was located. These caves were like tombs, and even if you robbed them, you could not locate humans unless they made sounds. And the blonde was very much preventing himself from uttering a single word at this point. It wasn't fear that had gripped him and made him stand perfectly still, because he could withstand Bakura's wrath with another empty laugh and crueller words, but he had no desire to be captured within those cruel arms again.

Then he heard it. Murmurs from all around him, echoing off the walls as he tried to locate the sound, but he knew that the language wasn't his, and he knew that that voice, certainly wasn't Bakura's.

'_So he's found a little guide to do the dirty work for him..'_ Mariku thought relentlessly, lips curling into a sneer. _'I suspect his blood will flow as soon as he's found me. Or not, of course.'_

Perhaps it was the silence with which Bakura was met that started to anger him. Maybe he had expected Mariku to flee, to scream, to utter at least one word that would show his anxiety. But yet again, as he had expected before and was disappointed then, Mariku failed to meet them. It was in his anger that he hissed more ancient words to the other man, who seemed to cower as his voice was low and soft, barely suppressing his whimpers as he addressed the Lord.

"Oi – where the fuck did you run off to?"

Oh fuck. There was the idiot that had to butt in where he wasn't supposed to butt in. It would be clear that Bakura had a weapon on him, and Mariku didn't expect Touzouko to fight his way in the darkness so well. His build and frame alone was enough to hit _something_.

Apparently Touzouko had heard the murmurs for he then called out. "Who's there." In his tone there was not one ounce of surprise, not a hint of kindness either. The tone had become stealthy and dangerous and Mariku wasn't as reserved in thinking he would get hurt after all. He had forgotten that Touzouko couldn't have been born with muscles and surely living alone in caves must have set off some survival techniques.

Bakura on the other hand, seemed to not have as much experience with keeping his voice down.

"None of your business." He merely laughed, "Unless.." Mariku could nearly see his eyes beginning to glitter in the dark. "You know of the whereabouts of a certain blonde slave of mine." In the other's mind it seemed to click, fragments being put together and a slow realization dawned on his face in the flicker of light in which Mariku could see him. A few steps echoed through the cave and in the same light, Bakura's face now appeared. In this current state, he wasn't looking rather pleased, but as soon as he was visible, Touzouko started.

"Bakura?"

Mariku started to feel a churning in his stomach that had nothing to do with anger.

"….Well well…" a chuckle, "Touzouko."

"What're you doing here?" the other thief was wary.

"Like I said, looking for my blonde slave.." Bakura paused for a moment and, with another devious grin that promised nothing good, "…He's one of _those _you know." There was a short pause that followed, perhaps the other wasn't sure if he should give away such precious information, before he took a step closer to the taller male and continued to whisper. "One of those accursed deities, have you seen his marks?"

And all of a sudden, Mariku was quite certain, that if he had expected help from Touzouko even slightly, then that hope would be lost.

"… So that's what he is." The man stared at Bakura blankly. "..Then I have no purpose in aiding him."

"Right?" Bakura's smirk was pleased. "Then tell me where he is."

"You got me wrong Bakura.." Touzouko shifted so that his cloak rustled over the floor, his face as serious as it was a few seconds ago. "I am on neither side. If he's truly a godsend boy, they will decide if he lives. And you will pay dearly."

"So you're too much of a coward to join in Touzouko?" Bakura snarled viciously.

"I'm saying that Mariku is smart enough to get out of here on his own.. I have no clue of his whereabouts." There was a faint grin tracing his lips, "I'll let the gods decide on that."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay. Not going into too much details but basically my computer had a virus, I went to Spain, and then college life started. I'm extremely sorry for taking, yet again, two months to update but I really hope you enjoyed this one!

There will finally be a light shed on Ryou's past and why on earth he chose to be this way as, clearly, it can't be anything but horrible.

Thank you all for such wonderful review, they really do keep me writing!


	8. Truths

**Chapter 8: Truths.**

* * *

In the darkness, he was secure. The blonde found that the alluring presence of something that caused shadows, and tended to cause mass panic amongst commoners, would swallow him up completely. There was no help for him here, but he grew to realize that despite living in it for so long, he had grown fonder of it than the light he had encountered. Both in the dark and light, there would be evil lurking. This only raised one question: Do you want to see it?

It was under this same presence, that Mariku started to crawl away from the voices and the light source that flickered on both men. The moon that dared to penetrate the cave, forced him down on his knees, crouching like a wounded animal, only to prevent being seen. He increased his pace, scuffling along the walls and not daring to look back because he knew that if he did, he would lose his focus completely. Right now there were all sorts of sounds around him, he could hear the rats seeking shelter from the coming humans, he could sense the insects crawling back into their tiny holes… But what he would be most perceptive of, were the footsteps drawing nearer.

Bakura was angry.

Mariku was aware of this anger, fed off it even with a huge grin on his face as he kept creeping through the cave, cutting up his hands and knees and not giving a damn. He'd felt a certain sensation as he made him angry, a victor that only he could achieve. There was no longer fear that meddled with his emotions, because in his range, there was no time for it. It was useless, petty, absolutely irrelevant to what he should feel, what he was _supposed_ to feel.

Light broke into the darkness, scattering of the walls and Mariku had to shield his eyes to not feel momentarily blind.

And there it was. He could feel the wind whip around his head, finally presenting itself by carelessly stroking his cheeks, undoubtedly the grains of sand would not normally feel this good on his beaten-up skin. The blonde nearly turned dizzy from staring into the sun directly, hypnotized. Despite his belief that everything dark suited him best, he could never deny himself the warmth of the orb shining above him. As his feet carried him into the desert, they gave way to miniature plumes of dust, convinced for all he knew that he would make it out there.

He was _free_.

Free from a noisy thief that carried on talking until deep in the night, free from boundaries that kept him. It's all he can do to keep himself from breaking down in a hysterical cry for laughter, one that'll ring through the desert and wake the scorpions with its mad call. He had a glazed look in his eyes as he ran, feet carrying through the sand and dancing along the grains until more of the plumes started to float up next to him.

And then it happened fast. A hand shot out instantly, as soon as he had been dancing among the sand and his feet were heating up. The same hand grabbed him by the hair and forced him down until he tasted the very same of it, breathing chortled and choking on the fumes that entered his nose and mouth, effectively blocking the airstream. He was so close. He had been so close. For a short moment Mariku actually felt like he was about to cry when hands gripped him hard and his own nails left long scratches across the other's skin. He was instantly aware of who it was, how could he not be?

"I got you..." Those words whispered into his ear eerily, the weight heavy on his body, pressing down. The eyes crisped with anger when the smirk on his face never quite reached there. He wouldn't ever smile and quite frankly, Mariku didn't feel like grinning too at this point.

"You remember right?"

The blonde said nothing. It would infuriate Bakura the most.

The only thing he noticed was his own blank expression in the flash of the knife under the silver moonlight.

* * *

Fully dressed, and warming up in the comfort of another secret room, Ryou had settled down on a pillow, Malik seated awkwardly across from him. In his hand was a glass of wine that a couple of slaves had pushed into Ryou's hands – who had refused it. The way he was positioned reminded Malik exactly of why he would need to get drunk, or why he perhaps would want to forget. Vaguely he wondered if Ryou would go on, if today hadn't been a complete and utter traumatic experience for him, if he hadn't been too pushy… Until –

"I love my brother Malik…" his eyes shone clear, protecting and ever watchful. He was back to being Ryou again, the boy that Malik knew was gentle, but had a fierce side hidden underneath layers of forced politeness. "I want you to know I love my brother."

"As I do mine." A sip of his wine. An awkward shuffle on the pillow. A nod.

An understanding.

A pensive silence followed, trickling down the walls and spreading throughout the hollow of the room. Suddenly the fire that had been lit, didn't feel so warm anymore, and the chill spread through his bones. When Ryou's eyes found his again, Malik dared not to look away.

His breath was taken in a slight shudder, preparing himself for the words that would soon leave his mouth, words that hadn't been used in a long time.

"You notice my complexion?" A vague gesture, hand flitting before Ryou's face, spidery fingers outstretched before closing –

"Yes." The blonde thought it polite to not enquire, he had of course noticed the pale skin. It was uncommon, and even thought of as a bad omen… It was no wonder either. The Jews had come two hundred years ago, and the wreckage they had left behind had left deep marks… The two hundred years had not been enough time to forget, to heal scars of future generations that had been edged into their skin at birth. Cattle had mysteriously died, plagues had spread far and wide, children had been slain in their beds, and disaster had fallen over the country. Everyone with a lighter skin tone was to be mistrusted, and considered a bad omen. Taking all that into consideration, perhaps he'd had his own share of curiosity before the other had brought it up.

The hunger in his eyes must've been evident, that tiny sparkle that seemed too modest to ask, yet hungry enough to be noticed. Because once Ryou noticed it, he gave this little laugh.

"It's okay…" a kind smile, always warm. Malik couldn't understand how he did it. "It's a curious thing, after all."

Perhaps Malik never understood, perhaps he had just been sitting there in this stupid anticipation, as he had always been waiting on his brother. He would never understand at all. Just the tiny things that Ryou allowed him to peek into, feeding his curiosity just enough before it'd drive him mad. Had Mariku been like that?

"Unfortunately," Ryou's voice broke his thoughts, and he was all attention again. "So did the rest of the country." A smile lay there, yet it grew nervous under the strains of memories. "We were forced to move, a village called Kul Elna."

The name was nothing to Malik, just a name lost amongst the rest of Ryou's words. After all, all he'd known was his tomb with its sacred walls and itchy sandy floors, the palace had been the only place on the map he was allowed to know and Kul Elna wasn't even part of his world. But he would soon learn it, learn Ryou's world, if only a bit more.

"It was a thievery village, the worst of what you can think of lived there," Ryou's hand brushed against his temple, but the smile had yet not left his face. Malik wondered why, the thought of Ryou wandering around a place like that was foreign. "But it was my home."

"You said we – " Malik carefully interjected, the furrow in his brow easily seen under that mess of blonde hair. "You mean your brother?"

"I mean my brother, to be sure."

"…Continue, please."

There seemed to come a deep sigh from Ryou's lips, after all – it was a story. What could he lose with telling it? He had promised, thought it seemed a while back. Kul Elna was no foul place to him, the memories were fond and gentle except for that last one. And that last one in particular proved to be what the story was mostly relying on. "My brother and I were happy there, so long as we had each other at least, it didn't seem to matter much." A laugh. "He was cruel, he may be described as somewhat of an asshole, he stole, he did what he could and would always proclaim he would be leader of the village, claim what was rightfully his."

They used to laugh at him, Ryou remembers. They used to ruffle his pretty white hair and push him around until he got angry, snarled and bared his teeth like a wildcat. These were fond memories.

"Then one day…" the smile seemed to evaporate under a sullen look, a nervous gaze – disappeared under the shadows of his own emotion. "They came."

Malik's hand shot out quicker than he recalled doing, taking ahold of that paler hand, and grasping it between his fingers. He didn't know why he did – it was just the smallest gesture that should be able to tell Ryou that he was _here, _that he would listen, noticing Ryou's change and suddenly fearing if he wants to hear this. "Who?"

"The Pharaoh's men…" a tiny voice, a quick look around him, noticing only the dark and placid walls, no other voices to disturb them. "They came in the night. We were a thieving village they said.. they burned and took, and raped and _murdered_.." he quivered more, the tone so calm to what his face was telling. The images swam through his mind, the screams and blood never leaving him, always stuck to him to remind him of what had surpassed.

"Oh gods Ryou.." Malik mutters musingly, holding a hand up to his mouth, fingers pressing harder against that hand that seemed so small now.

"My brother was never one to give in… " A second silence, more persistent than the first followed, and Malik could only patiently wait. "He wanted to fight Malik, he fought with all he had, but they had left him bloody and beaten with all of his men lost."

"They found me, petty little me who'd been told to hide beneath a table and so I had. I stood there, shaking and crying when they'd dragged me out from there and twisted my arm painfully – presenting me to Bakura. It was clear to them, he was my brother." An apprehensive nod from his right, "They cut him a deal… If he'd let me go with them, then they would leave the rest of the village alone."

A horrible sinking feeling reached the pit of Malik's stomach – he couldn't have, could he? He couldn't have…

"Bakura was torn," Ryou's voice continued to carry on softly, as if it had gained a separate life now and danced amidst them, when the body was left behind. There was no way anyone could sound this calm, under these tales. "There were people yelling at him, screaming the horrible things people only say under serious threat… They had wanted to save their lives, told Bakura that he was the one who wanted to be a leader, and I had always been useless…"

Tears. They seemed to sting his eyes.

"Remember when I told you that your brother cared a great deal about you?" Those eyes of his were clear as they met the blonde's own, clear and unyielding, yet forgiving… So calm.

"Yes.. I remember." His cheek felt moist but Ryou seemed to pay no mind, lost in this world and the other one playing back in his mind.

"I agreed. I told him to stay, I told him I would go, I loved my brother Malik…" it seemed his body was catching up to what his heart seemed to be feeling, a few tears noticeable in those eyes, though unshaken. "I wanted him to live."

"So he let you go?" his tone was unbelieving, it was something he didn't want to grasp… Yet it stung worse to know that it was what he had done only a little while back.

"He let me go."

And then, Ryou cried.

* * *

The moon hung low in the sky, curving slightly and a bite had been taken out. When they were kids, Mariku had used to tease his brother and said that it'd been just that, that Ra had gotten hungry. It seemed so far away now, the moon was now simply hanging there under a cloudless sky with no wisp of smoke to disturb it.

Here on the ground, things were different. The moon only flickered in the corner of his vision, the rest he saw were only white hairs and a panting body above him, dragging him back and forth into the sand, as his own body refused to give way.

It was a mad entanglement of bodies, one leg twisting around another, a tanned first landing a blow against another part before Bakura growled and twisted his hair so hard that even the boy under him let out a growl. He is not adorned, like the moon is, with its bright light and tiny little stars floating around it, he is naked and raw, and bleeding by the time Bakura's forced himself halfway in.

It is pain he feels, not bliss and that floating sense that the moon must surely feel. Mariku's vaguely aware of how messed up his thoughts get under this same moon, fluttering away until it leaves his brain all fuzzy. Perhaps it is the insomnia, perhaps the hunger, although the two combined have dimmed his way of thinking.

"Radamned – You'll pay – pay you hear!" He is only vaguely aware anymore of that body above his, ramming into him. It's as if it doesn't matter anymore, who it is, what happens next – all these tiny little steps that seemed so important. Is he drunk? Is he high? It's as if he can't tell high from low anymore until there's this burning _aching _that fills him up so deep inside that he kicks Bakura again – getting a harsher thrust in turn.

Mariku's like a wild animal, kicking and biting, and twisting through the sand and Bakura having to piece it together and scramble on top again. There was no easy way to fuck him, feel those hips crash against his own and those groans spill from the other's lips. Bakura's furious, perhaps even crazy with this anger that fills him up deeply, and that he's in love with all the same. Perhaps his father had been right, perhaps Mariku was more alike … But he refused to think about that.

"Fuck your gods – " Bakura snarled, and the blonde has no idea where that came from. His face is ugly, bruised from where Mariku hit him, and bleeding from a split lip. Yet his eyes shine like fire, blazing into the white of his face – and Mariku's positive that's what his skull will look like. White like the sand, with those eyes for gems inside of it. Always _burning. _

"What…" It cost him much effort to snarl, but he refused to give up the fight. "Fucking gods?"

Never has he understood Bakura's way of bringing them up. Perhaps this is irony. It is because Mariku never believed in them, not since they carved his back open, not since his father whipped them and no relief came… It wasn't even because he used to wish his own father dead, and the gods frown upon such thoughts. It was because when he was a little boy, and he begged for someone to save him, that they never came to his defense. God-send? Special? There was no such thing. Communicating with the gods was a farce, and Mariku was aware of it, moreso than anyone around.

"Your gods precious!" the man snarled back at him, biting into his shoulder and making the blonde wince for the first time, as he felt the fangs sunk in. "Those fucking gods you serve!"

It wasn't that the anger was new – but like the previous time when Bakura'd hit him… There was a desperation behind it. It was queer, unfathomable.

"There – hnn – are no gods.." the blonde hissed, ferociously as nails raked down the other's back and leaving bleeding marks all over the skin. It was an ironic resemblance of what had made him suffer all those years back. "No gods – none –" he spat it out as he remembered, and in that moment, he noticed it. Bakura's eyes seemed to flicker, and only a moment later he flung Mariku away from him, suddenly replacing his thrusts with his fists, ramming him wherever he could.

"THERE ARE GODS – YOU SERVE THEM, MORONIC IDIOT!"

The blonde twisted around. Punches met other punches. He bent backwards and jumped up, tired and fatigued, bleeding from places he didn't want to remember and substances dribbling out that stung both his physique and pride. "THEY DON'T EXIST!" he screamed at him, charging, feeling knuckles brush past his cheek but he kept on hitting him – crazy with the idea that no one should believe in them. Not even him – not even stupid little him, whom Mariku hated with his whole being.

They matched each other, punch for punch, kick for kick and fought until they were both lying in the sand, exhausted. Bakura regretted not taking anyone with him. In the sand he rolled over, his eyes spewing hatred, "I'm taking revenge on those gods you serve – " he wasn't sure on why he said it. It was supposedly his own little secret.

His answer was a laugh. The same one that had chilled his bones, very early when they'd met, and this time it didn't change. Mad and psychotically was how he'd wished to describe it, but it left it as silent as it had left him the first time – it was not the voice of a sacred one, but more of a demon that ruled in that body, cursing itself for eternity and laughing until it laughed no more.

"Gods he says – " the other laughs this laugh of a predator, "Those you hate?"

"I hate them more than you can imagine – " He was eager to beat his face in for that sardonic smile of his – but it'd have to wait.

"Hating…" the other mused, taking pleasure in this one advantage that had been presented to him. "Acknowledges their existence."

Bakura only stared at him, his mouth slightly open – and for the first time unsure. Not scared, just stunned, waiting – anticipating his next words.

"Gods have never existed to me you pathetic fool, they're as dead as those men of yours, dead as the soldiers of the Pharaoh after the war with the Jews,"

"What are you saying?"

"That in your hatred… You only acknowledge what does not exist, deeming you incredibly foolish."

In Mariku's eyes Bakura saw it – and feared it. There was nothing there, just this gaze that told him he held no beliefs. It wasn't bravura, it was the resentment that came with being forced into a position that had never wanted. But if he didn't believe in gods, then…

He had no purpose with him whatsoever.

Bakura felt like he was falling.

* * *

**Author's Note: ** … I never expected it would take me this long. I can go into long rants of 'university killed me', but I don't think anyone will be particularly delighted to know. I wanted to write this for a long time, but I was absolutely clueless on how to go about it.

My writing style changed, that may hopefully not be as noticeable, and I feared I had scared all my readers away. It took me long, and I swear to god I hope it won't take me as long again. I do plan on another story, with Yami Marik playing a huge part again, but I shall not write it until this darned thing is finished.

I hope you forgive me, and I hope you enjoyed it for what it's worth.


End file.
